Journey
by Lattemi
Summary: The story of the mountains that the boy in blue and the girl in pink overcame hand in hand along their journey. (cover image by myself as of December 2018)
1. press start

****Despite my undying love for the Ice Climbers, I've never actually written anything about them to express my passion. I found this surprisingly easier to write than anything else I've written, probably because it's solely about them xD This story basically compromises almost all of my headcanons about their backstory, plus my own kind of retelling of their mountain climbing journey (hence the title). There's mentions of random OCs I've made up, but they're not totally important right now - in fact, they're quite minor.****

 ** **Enjoy reading :****

* * *

" _What are you playing?"_

 _The young boy slowly looks up from his toys, his night blue eyes meeting the inquisitive gaze of a girl his age wrapped in a cosy pink parka._

" _It's called Villages. The village's food is all being stolen by the animals, so the chief's going with his climbing people to go up the mountain and get the food again."_

" _Does the princess do anything?"_ _She points at the wooden doll adorned with crudely tied braids and a little pink and red dress._

 _The little boy pauses for a moment, picking up the doll and inspecting it thoughtfully._

" _Yes, she does. She's gonna lead the climbing people with her chief!" he beams up at her, placing the doll in her hand._

* * *

"How high do you reckon that mountain is?"

Its summit is barely halfway up Icicle Mountain – that's the dominating mountain over our region, and the tallest – yet the sloping blankets of snow covering the even steeper slopes themselves are enough to remind us of how small we actually are. Not to mention the fact that this is one out of the thirty-something mountains encircling Icicle Mountain and there's no knowing which mountain the blasted condor's vanished to. Funny how such a huge creature can suddenly disappear into the fog without any trace of its invasion at all.

Well, that part's not entirely true. Considering the amount of wreckage there is in the village now and the gaping absence of food.

"I don't know. It's gonna be quite a challenge." Popo replies, staring up in awe at the peak. His eyes are filled with this kind of determination, a buzz in his gaze that I can only ever see in Popo. It's clear that he'd rather do this for everyone else than for himself, even though he's the one risking his life in the first place.

"Well, duh. What does our village decide to do when its climbing team of responsible adults go missing _with_ the condor? Panic until it takes two-" - I hold two of my fingers up, for added emphasis - " _two_ teenagers to volunteer on behalf of the fifty of us that remain to go up."

He frowns. "When you put it like that, it makes us look kind of stupid, going off and doing this by impulse."

To be fair, the idea in itself didn't sound realistic at all, even to me (surprisingly enough). The only knowledge the pair of us had of climbing was from the few "classes" we'd had from Popo's mom and my dad, which only actually consisted of us hiking up baby cliff sides with barely any height – and worth barely any effort.

This mountain is not a baby cliff side.

I notice Popo opening the enormous sack he'd somehow lugged with us all the way to the foot of the mountain where we're stood now. I decide not to question his strength and make my way over to him so I can peer inside the bag.

"...why have you brought massive hammers?"

"Mallets," he corrects. "Gio said they'd be useful for...breaking stuff."

Gio is our village's stand-in chief for the time being, until Popo's old enough to take over the position. Normally he was just an advisor to Popo's mother (when she'd needed it, which wasn't very often), but it was evident that his family trusted him enough to oversee the village in their untimely absence.

"Aren't they gonna be a bit heavy for us to drag up?" I ask, still overlooking the shapes of the mallets. The heads are almost half the size of us both each, but make up for their lack in height in their colossal width. That might be over-exaggerating a bit, but to put it simply: they're huge.

"I did ask him that, but he said we'd probably be able to manage." Popo clasps both of his hands tightly around the handle of the ever so slightly more chipped hamm- mallet, and I wait there, watching and expecting him to end up looking quite silly as he struggled to get it off the ground. Not that I underestimate his strength, considering he'd managed to carry them with us in the first place, but holding one properly to use seems a step too far…?

"Oh. It's- it's not as heavy as it looks, Nana."

Okay, maybe I was a bit too judgemental.

He picks up the other mallet with just as much ease as he did with his own, now held in _one_ hand, handing it to me.

I blink. "Popo, I appreciate the compliment, but just because you're some kind of superman doesn't mean I am too."

Raising an eyebrow, he replies, "And you say I'm the one who's not confident enough. Trust me, it's not that bad, especially if it's _you_ holding it."

I end up taking his word for it and taking the mallet into my hands. The abrupt yank to the ground I expect never appears, and I realise that the mallet is actually as light as any regular hammer. Or at least a normal-sized mallet.

I start swinging the mallet around, still admiring how weirdly lightweight it is. It takes a few moments for me to realise I should probably stop before I whack Popo by accident, which he seems terrified of enough anyway as he awkwardly stands by.

"Sorry about that," I laugh nervously. "Maybe these will be useful after all."

His wistful but kind chuckle joins mine, like we're both harmonising a little melody.

"You don't need to apologise, dummy. It's fine." Popo briefly turns back to the view of our first mountain, before extending his hand out to me as his gaze meets mine again. That mountain really is grand – it's the only way I could possibly describe it. If we were to overcome that single mountain alone, if we stay alive long enough to do that, maybe I would feel like a princess. A grand heroine on top of the world, even if that's only a single mountain. It'd be worth something.

"I think we'd better get going."

It's okay, though, because I already feel worth something enough right at the bottom of this mountain, where I'm not alone.

It's more than enough.


	2. the first ascent

****Here's the next part. I wrote way more for this than for the last chapter, so I hope it's not**** _ ** _ **too**_**_ ** **rambly. As always, I hope you enjoy reading my work ^^"****

* * *

" _Hey, are the princess and the chief a mama and papa yet?"_

" _Oh." The boy shrugs. "I don't have a baby doll to be the kiddie."_

 _Reaching for a plump-looking figure of a small seal, the girl places it next to the princess and the chief toys._

" _They can be this topi's parents. That way, maybe it can come along with them when they go climbing!"_

* * *

So far, we've conquered about 300-ish metres.

We have 700 left to trek.

Ropes tightly wound around both our waists, we clutch tightly onto the stubbornly frozen packs of ice that have trapped the kinder surface of the original mountain in its wake. It's incredibly difficult to move upwards at all, what with the faint beginnings of a screaming blizzard starting to encompass us in its nightmare. Carefully, I remove my left axe from the ice and firmly strike it in a level higher, pulling myself up with what little strength I have left and embedding the spikes of my crampons in the wall.

My line of sight falls back upon Nana, just below me, who I can see starting to struggle with the fogginess of the weather. She squints back at me, and manages to muster up enough vigour to speak. It's a little embarrassing, how we've only done a few hundred metres in- I haven't even kept track of the time at this point, so I don't know how long we've been stuck up here for. Yet it feels as if we've been trapped with the ice too, for something like many hours long – at least, longer than we've actually been on the mountain.

"You tired?"

"I'm fine," I reply, trying to shrug off her worry. But when it comes to Nana, she's always got more to say.

"I think we're nearly at the top of this wall," she calls back, glancing upwards. "If it's flatter up there, and there's a cave, we could wait there for a bit."

"Fair enough."

When we finally grasp the ledge of the wall, I find that just as Nana predicted, a small cave is lodged into the rocky wall of the part of the mountain we're at. Apart from a few icicles suspended across the top of the entrance, it seems safe enough to linger in for the time being. The first break we've had throughout this journey is within reach. I turn to Nana, helping her up the ledge onto her feet and awaiting her thankful grin.

"I'm psychic. My witchcraft skills are amazing."

I smirk back. "Hey, no need to get so full of yourself."

"I'm just speaking the truth." she replies, rolling her eyes with her smile still plastered to her face. "Now let's hurry up and take a look in that cave. I need to get out of all of this white stuff."

"Snow?"

"That."

Hurrying into the cave, we both nearly collapse down onto the cave floor, setting down our packs of equipment nearby the wall. It sends chills through my spine as I lean back against it, though it's ever so slightly numbed by the comforting warmth of my parka enveloping my body. Nana shuffles over next to me, resting her head on my shoulder; I rest my own next to hers. For a moment, there's silence. Although that's something I wouldn't mind for a while.

That kind of affection we share and have with each other is also something we're both used to being teased about. _The perfect couple_ , they say. From my point of view, if we're any kind of couple, then we're a regular pair of best friends, nothing more or less. I know that's how Nana sees it too – it's how we've always been together, the blend of camellia pink and night sky blue that doesn't ever seem to be apart, yet it's the kind of mix that others still seem to associate with _that_ kind of love.

Nana groans, a faint cloud forming from her breath. "How long do you think we should stay in here for?"

"Until we feel like going." I shrug.

"Mm. That might be a while. I'm really puffed out at the moment."

"I mean, there isn't much point in us trying to climb up again whilst we're still tired. So let's just stay here."

Silence fills the space around us, the only other sound being the furious gusts of wind howling outside. We both wait, taking in the roaring songs of agony the outside is singing. But my fatigue starts to invade my consciousness, and my eyes slowly start to fall, drooping down as-

 _Crack!_

My eyes shoot open again, my sudden panic enabling me to look over to the entrance once again. And then, my eyes meet something I had not ever thought I would ever meet.

"Nana?"

Her eyes also start to flutter open, and it's only then I realise she'd miraculously fallen asleep already. I don't like seeing her tired and as weak as I am too, but we've chosen to embark on this mission together: our pains are to be shared together. She pauses for a moment, until her eyes suddenly widen in surprise at the thing that greets us at its step.

"Is that…?"

For the moment, we both don't seem to be able to do anything other than stare in awe at the glass-eyed seal at our doorstep. Minuscule grains of snow speckle its goggled eyes that do nothing but simply blink back at us.

"It's a Topi!"

The 'Topi's' head suddenly perks up at the mention of the name we humans dub it as. Neither of us expect it to attack, because we know well enough it's not in their nature. The tales we hear as children are proof enough. True, Topis could be hindering towards climbing - I remember Mom complaining about them when she'd return from her journeys, how the "dirty little rascals" had the cheek to barricade blocks of ice along the pathways the climbers took.

It's then that we remember the plot twists.

My attention is turned to Nana, now stood up, mallet raised in her hands as I realise what her next intentions are.

"Hey, don't try and _kill_ it! What the heck are you doing, Nana?!"

"It won't be easy for us to just- just smash our way out of an ice wall! What else am I supposed to do?"

"You don't have to be so reckless. We could just, you know, shoo it away with some ice or something."  
She frowns, clearly not understanding my point. "Ice? Wha-" she stops mid-sentence as she realises what exactly I'm referring to.

Our gazes meet the (now almost-white-faced) seal, its own focused instead on the large head of Nana's mallet. She sighs again, placing her weapon back on the floor as she carefully approaches the creature, her usual gentle smile now vested on her expression.

"Hey. Sorry for, like, threatening to whack you earlier."

Her comforting words only make the Topi retract further away from her hands.

"I wasn't thinking. It's...kinda my thing, being impulsive and all that." At least she's admitting it.

She grins a little more at the seal. "Can you forgive me? Pretty please?" she adds, batting her eyelids.

And here I am, on the sidelines watching my best friend look as if she's trying to flirt with a seal she had been about to murder two minutes ago.

Eventually, the seal seems to give in and cautiously makes its way _towards_ us, looking all bright and cheerful once again. How it had even been surviving up this high is beyond either of our knowledge, but it's nice to have some more companionship (not that Nana's isn't enough).

Nana laughs as the Topi playfully hops into her arms, giving her a small lick on the cheek as some form of affection.

"They actually are kind of cute, aren't they, Popo?"

"It was never harmful in the first place." I look the little creature up and down again before giving it a soft pat on the head. "Quite friendly though, isn't it?"

"Can we keep it?"

"How are we going to take it up with us when we have to scale another ice sheet?"

Her expression falls back to a sullen look, though she still embraces her new pet-for-the-time-being tightly. Even the seal seems to be in despair at my apparent cruelty.

"Don't take that personally." I sigh.

"Hmm..." she pauses again. "I guess...you do have a point." Gently setting the seal back down onto the cave floor, she turns her head back to me, her human accompaniment.

"You'll have to do for now, then!" Nana smirks mischievously. "You're a good enough pet as it is."

I blink. "Sorry, but that sounds terribly wrong out of context." Though even I can't help but snicker a bit at her remark.

"Context is a subjective thing." she matter-of-factly replies.

"Hey, what are you trying to say? I thought I was lead climber. I'm not gonna be the pet here."

"Well, somebody's gotta do it."

We both face each other, leering with burning intensity. But one thing we both have in common is being terrible at staring contests, because we always end up bursting into fits of laughter, loud enough to drown out the wind outside.


	3. embrace the moment

" _'What's wrong, princess?'" the boy asks in a mock deep voice, playing as the chief ascending the mountain._

" _'Well, we've been gone for a really long time, and...I kind of miss my Papa."_

 _the girl, as the princess, replies._

 _There is silence for a moment as the boy thinks over how he should reply._

" _'Your Papa's still here with you, kind of. He's watching over you in spirit! Even if, um, he's actually back home in the village."_

" _'He'll always be with you no matter where you are, princess.'"_

* * *

Now that I think about it, we've actually come pretty far. For starters, we've collected more vegetables than we thought we were going to obtain in the first place. Good thing we brought extra sacks.

We've also conquered 7 mountains as of now; I'm already starting to get used to life up here. I mean, sure, it's deathly freezing and the damn condor keeps taking off to the next mountain over only for us to chase after it, but at least it isn't as bad as I thought it'd be. I'm pretty confident in my climbing ability now, but at first, I thought Popo and I would have had to return home within an hour of our ascent on the first mountain. Or maybe even within 10 minutes.

I suppose it's been more bearable because there's two of us together.

"I wonder how everyone back home's doing." Popo muses.

We've set up camp on the peak of our most recently overcome mountain in a little quinzee large enough for the pair of us to snuggle up in. It's either that or an eerily quiet cave.

"Probably better than we are out here, risking our lives for them all." I scoff.

"You volunteered _with_ me, Nana."

"Yeah, I know. But I had my reasons."

He sighs, his gaze still fixated on the millions of stars scattered across the sky above us. The following silence feels a little more awkward than the ones we normally share, probably because I brought _that_ up. Popo's always been able to see right through me.

"I think we'll have done them proud once all of this is over."

I hesitate for the shortest of moments.

"Do you want this to be over?"

His face briefly twitches in surprise as he turns towards me, lying next to him. I don't move to meet his eyes, but I watch his curious stare from the corners of my eyes, making sure my expression is as unreadable as possible. All I have to do now is wait for him to answer.

"I mean, I want to do this for everyone in the village. It's my duty, after all." Popo replies, looking back at the sky. "But I don't hate what we're doing right now either."

I laugh. "You don't not like the freezing cold weather or anything?"

"It's a nuisance, but since I'm warm every night - even though we're not in a comfy cabin or anything – it isn't, you know...as bad as it seems. And when we climb all these mountains and get the harvest back, we don't have to stop there. We could still go climbing together." He pauses again. "If you'd like to, of course."

Taking hold of his hand by mine, I gently squeeze it in approval. "Give me one reason why I wouldn't want to, Popo." I grin.

Red faintly dyes his cheeks for a little before he smiles back. "We wouldn't be able to stay here forever, of course. We have to get back for everyone. They'll be pretty hungry for the rest of winter without us."

"They'll be fine for now, right? We brought back the food from the first couple of mountains before we left again."

"It's only enough for a month at the most."

For a moment, I don't respond, briefly indulging in the heat of our laced hands that somehow seems to be the thing that's keeping me most warm at this point.

"I guess this is good preparation for me, right? With everything Mom taught me and... _this_ , maybe I'll be able to do her a bit of justice." he says wistfully. In a way, these climbs we've embarked on are kind of like an escape for the both of us from- well, nowhere. We have homes back in the village. We have friends. We have some kind of security.

Just no one left to go to, really.

"You're gonna be a great chief, obviously. I mean, come on! You're Popo."

Popo smiles at my remark, but I can still hear his embedded sadness when he speaks again.

"Mom used to say that to me all the time." he replies, with the slightest crack in his voice.

The air falls silent again, with only the sound of the hissing wind distracting us from any awkwardness that's returned between us. I purse my lips as I carefully consider what to say next. After all, it wasn't as if the incident hadn't happened long ago. I can still remember the events vividly in my head.

* * *

"No more baby cliff sides for you two budding adventurers now," the formidable-looking woman in front of us announces, untying the sack my father carried with us to the base of this slope. Out of the sack, she produces two starter climbing packs prepared especially for Popo and I to use on this very fine day.

"Such a proud moment for the pair of you as a couple. Your first climb together up a proper mountain!" my father teases.

"Dad, how many times do I have to _tell_ you, we're not-"

"Yes, yes, believe what you will, I've already given your lovely man here my blessing for your marriage. So even if I die before I ever see the two of you married, you won't have to worry about asking for permission!" he beams, taking in the pleasure of seeing the irritation on both mine and Popo's faces. "...Except asking for Ms. Fuyu's consent, of course." he adds as an afterthought, nodding towards the woman – Popo's mother, the stand-in chief until he's old enough to take over.

"Then, we're on the same boat. I was discussing wedding preparations with my son the other day."

Popo's cheeks immediately redden. "Mom-!"

"Okay, okay, we'll stop."

Ms. Fuyu hands us both our climbing packs, and we take out the ropes and hooks that we'll need to scale the first few parts of the mountain. The mountain in particular that we'll be climbing is nothing compared to the actual mountains around our land – I wonder if it can even be called a mountain, sometimes – but at least we're starting somewhere, right?

After tying the rope that links me to Popo around my waist, I turn my attention to the mountain itself. My father and Ms. Fuyu are just in front of us, presumably re-evaluating for the umpteenth-time whether we're suited for this climb. Eventually, they spin around back to us, nodding:

"You ready, then?"

We both nod, ready as ever to take on the challenges of the mountain.

* * *

We're just a few hundred metres up, but I already feel like I'm above the clouds. (I'm not.)

Maybe it's because my feet seem as if they're going to slip off the ice they're latched onto, a disaster I can only pray never befalls us. The last thing I need to happen is to drag Popo down with me when he's already doing amazingly at leading us both.

The ropes are actually quite loose, to allow us some limited freedom for leaping and moving around ledges as we scale the ice walls and slopes. One of the most important rules any climber is taught is to make sacrifices when they're necessary. Quite literally, you have everyone's lives on the line. In those kinds of situations, decisions like those must be horribly difficult to make. It just makes me think of how fragile the strings connecting us all really are. There's strings I know I'd never, ever want to sever, there were the strings I knew I had to cut for the best.

Will I have to cut any more in the future?

I quickly follow after Popo's hops and steps, hacking my small axes into the ice where I need to for stability. Everyone seemed to be a bit sceptical at the prospect of giving us (or rather, me specifically) such sharp tools to handle, since we were apparently "still young children barely maturing" in the words of Gio.

"You two are doing great! We're almost at the next flatland. We'll stop for a break there." my dad hollers down to us both below.

When we arrive, we take refuge in a small snow shelter Dad puts together. It's somewhat sloppy work, for my father, though it isn't as if we're going to stop for the whole _night_. The plan is simple: to have left for the mountain by noon and return by the seventeenth hour at the very latest, when the sun sets. Popo's mom had said that at the rate we'd been training and working at, we'd probably finish the whole affair by fifteen hours. Nothing should get in the way.

Ms. Fuyu smirks at us. "Tired yet?"

"I'm as fine as can be. We'd better hurry up and get up this mountain so we can say we've accomplished something!" I grin back, pulling up a confident posture.

Popo yawns, "How far up are we?"

"Just under halfway up."

My head snaps up as I suddenly hear Dad's casual statement. "Wha-? But hasn't it only been-"

"An hour? Yeah, but you're fast learners. Didn't take you long to catch up to us, did it?"

There he goes again, showering us with compliments. It's the way Dad's always been, and I love him for it, but I sometimes feel as if he doesn't pay enough attention to how amazing he is too.

"Once we get back to Yukino, I'll be able to give you both your Climbing bands. Junior ones, mind, but it'll really say something."

"Mm...I don't want us to seem like- I-I mean, I'd be really glad to get my band, but..." Popo's voice trails off.

"Hey, you don't need to worry about that, Popo. I know the whole wow-weird-ice-powers thing has always been really hard for us both, but I'm pretty sure most people are used to it at this point. Not like we can help it."

He sighs. "I know, it just sort of bugs me anyway."

Suddenly, my dad decides to stand up, so he's looking over all of us. "Well, I _have_ told you both time and time again that what you have is simply a blessing. I understand your abilities may be used for what might seem like the worst, but...they are just as beautiful as the next snowflake."

"Very metaphorical as usual, Mr. Tsubaki." Popo's mother chuckles. "But he's right, Popo. So don't stress over it, okay?"

And she smiles her beam of comfort our way, like some kind of magic medicine only she can procure.

* * *

Once again, we're enshrouded by silence minus the howling wind we're caught up in. There's not much need for conversation when the important thing to focus on is making sure we stay put on the mountain.

 _Don't fall._

Admittedly, the fog is significantly thicker now that we're at a higher elevation. I feel kind of weird, though. A satisfying warmth in my stomach seems to have grown from the triumph of knowing I've- we've made it this far, yet… maybe it's just the piercing chills starting to get to me. But I feel almost sick at the same time, as if in a darker corner inside of me what little fear I have of this journey is going to burst into an ugly grotesque beast that overtakes me completely. I know I shouldn't be worried. Today is a normal climbing day for Dad and Ms. Fuyu, and here they are, stuck on a tiny mountain trying to teach two amateur fourteen-year-olds how to actually get up a mountain. I kind of feel sorry for them; they could be out on a good adventure with the rest of their climbing clan, though it was their choice to remain here with us.

 _Don't fall._

"Can you both still see us down there?" my dad hollers to us. He doesn't direct his gaze towards us when he speaks, his focus understandably instead on the slopes above him.

"J...just about!" I reply, squinting to barely make out his figure. Dad and Ms. Fuyu have already reached the next small area of flat ground to wait for us. There isn't much room for mobility in said space, but it's of no concern, since the next ice wall is just ahead of them.

"Good. Now, you'd better hurry up! We can't stay here for long."

That's a fair point. We need this training over and done with, though it's been tiring enough.

As I follow Popo once again in his every step, I call out, "Are we almost at the top?"

"Yeah, we just- we just have a few more jumps to make, then we're there!"

I indulge in a wave of relief splashing over me as soon as I hear those words. This wall, by far, is the wall that's taken longest to ascend. At least soon it's going to be over. Soon, we're going to be another step closer to accomplishing this mountain! According to Dad, the next glacier ahead's the last one before the peak. I can already imagine the glory and victory that would course through my veins as we stepped atop the mountaintop, hands linked, taking in the amazingly vast view of the valleys nestling our little village. And we'd have done it with-

"What the hell?!"

My head shoots up, Popo's yelp of horror overwhelming my relief with sudden panic instead. Panicking is the worst thing you can do on a mountain.

 _Don't fall. Don't fall. Don't-_

It doesn't take long for me to realise what stunned Popo like a bolt of lightning.

 _DON'T FALL. DON'T FALL._

It's right there, growling so menacingly and… disgustingly bloodthirstily. It's hungry, and it wants food. Nothing's going to soothe its desire, that dark and monstrous lust it has for life. Not even the mallets they, so close yet so far away, wield and brandish against its baring teeth.

No. It's going to take more than that.

But don't they have more than that?

 _PLEASE DON'T FALL. PLEASE. PLEASE DON'T FALL. DO NOT-_

The rope tugs tightly on my waist as Popo swiftly leaps from shelf to shelf. There, there, there- no! I told him not to- his foot slides, slipping off a shard of ice that shatters, its fragments falling, falling into the abyss below us. Tension around my waist starts to steal the breath away from me, his fall painfully tightening the ropes between us. But the greater stabs of the cold mute my voice, preventing me from letting out any sounds of pain. There's enough pain playing out right in front of me. Their grunts and moans as the beast attacks them further. Yet, here we are, unable to step in, though we are steps away.

 _ARE YOU LISTENING?! DON'T FALL! YOU CAN'T. DO NOT FALL._

" _Hurry!_ " my desperate voice chokes out. For me to rush ahead of Popo would only put us in more danger.

"No! Not here!" Ms. Fuyu's normally collected and composed vocals gasp. As we peer up, we're met with her now widened eyes. Her fighting spirit is burning evidently, but is it enough to defeat what's before them?

And then, there's Dad. Papa. My father. My guardian. He only says one word.

"Run."

He meets us with these bloodshot eyes that have replaced his kind and happy gaze.

" _Run back!_ "

* * *

I don't say anything to Popo for a moment, because any words that need to be exchanged are already being exchanged through our silences.

The quietness stings, but neither of us will admit it. There's no need to. We both already know how it makes us feel.

"I'm so sorry, Nana."

I blink, studying Popo's face, his expression, his eyes. The moment I see his tears sparkling, trickling down his cheeks is when I truly understand it – his sorrow. It's one we share, for obvious reasons, but what I've wanted this whole time is for him to open its doors to me.

I slowly exhale, ready to listen to what he's going to say.

"What are you sorry for?"

"You don't have to lie to me. I know it was my fault. So, you're right to blame me."

Why… how did he come to that conclusion?

"When did I say I blame you, Popo?" He makes no reply or sound, except for a few sniffles he can't really help. "There's no one to blame. No one but that monster."

"I don't think you understand what I'm trying to say, Nana." Popo sighs, before he starts choking out mumbled sentences.

"Mom only stayed because I asked her to. I- I told her I wanted her to stay with us instead, that we'd- that we'd… I, well, I only asked her because..." He trails off, hesitating for a moment before he continues.

"I was worried. I thought letting Mom and- and your dad stay would keep them safe. Because the peaks the village team's gone to explore, they're… they're deadly, Nana. But what if-"

"Popo."

Slowly, he turns his head to look at me with confused and desperate eyes.

"Please don't think about the what-ifs. You shouldn't. What-ifs are a waste of time."

I pause, suddenly realising how harsh I sound. I decide to retry conveying my thoughts into words for my best friend.

"If those peaks are as deathly as you make them sound, then perhaps they're just as dangerous, if not worse. So I'll start off by telling you not to even consider the thought that it would have been better that way."

Inhaling, I continue.

"We can't dwell on the past anymore, Popo. It won't help anything. Because, usually, stuff like that...it happens because it has to, right? We can't undo time, as much as I'd love to be able to."

"Um...when you climb a mountain. Sometimes you...you lose things. But you can't go back down to get them back, because they're gone by the time you try and get there. Dad and your Mom, they- I'm...I'm sure that they want us to keep on climbing, Popo. We can't give up now."

I don't expect Popo to respond at first, but to my surprise, he abruptly sits up, just staring at me in shock, until he suddenly pulls me towards him.

"Why aren't you _angry_ at me, Nana?! I don't get it! This is all- it's my-"

After he stops (lightly) shaking me up, I have no choice but to snap back, "I don't have anything to be angry at you about, idiot!"

"I don't get why you blame every stupid little thing on yourself when you don't need to, Popo! You do realise how many people care about you too, right? You- you have to let other people help you too… Popo."

Popo only glares back, supposedly annoyed that I'm _still_ trying to talk sense into him, and that I don't plan on stopping until he gets it.

After a short quiet moment, I gently wrap my arms around him, drawing us both into an embrace. "Please listen to me, Popo. Nothing was your fault, okay?"

I try to hold him as tightly as possible, hoping my body warmth might add some kind of extra comfort. Popo doesn't reciprocate my hug, his arms miserably hung at his sides, but he doesn't need to. I'm okay with just being a shoulder for him to cry on for now.

That's how we stay for the rest of the long night, my hand softly running its fingers through his messy hair, while he quietly sobs into my arms.


	4. fire and ice

" _But that's not fair!" she retorts, frowning distastefully._

" _The game won't work if we do it like that! That's why-"_

" _Why can't we just play it like we used to?"_

 _He sighs. "I don't want to! It's_ my _game!"_

" _Well, it's not nice if I can't decide things too! I don't want to play with you anymore!" Sticking her tongue out in spite, she storms out of the boy's room._

* * *

The only sounds surrounding us – besides the awful wind – are the regular rhythms of our axes ploughing into the ice and our footsteps following shortly after. As usual, we don't make much conversation when we're trying to stay alive on a sheet of ice, but even so, today feels painfully quieter than usual.

It hurts to know that it's my fault that things are a bit awkward at the moment. Which is quite stupid, because even though I _know_ it, I won't allow myself to even utter a word to make conversation. I don't know if it's because I don't feel inclined to, or if my selfishness just wants Nana to fix all my problems for me.

Even so, most things these days are irreversible.

Understandably, she gave up on trying to talk to me after a while, considering how stubborn I've been for the past three days. (More stubborn than her? I'm not sure myself.) Part of me is weirdly hurt by that, as if I'm annoyed enough to want my friend to keep talking, even if it only irritates me more. At this point, her voice and presence are some of the only things I have to rely on now – when you're friends for as long as we've been together, it's bad enough for me to say that it feels like a necessity, because Nana's almost always been with me. For her to suddenly be cut out just wouldn't...work.

"Let's rest up here for a little while."

Setting our packs and mallets down against the limited section of cliff wall we have available to us, we pause our trek up the mountain. Thankfully, the snow isn't as ridiculously roaring as it had been earlier, and there's the right amount of fog surrounding us so that we can observe the ground below us from our current vantage point. The mountain we're on now is significantly further away from our home village than the next one over, which we'd stopped at a few nights ago to restock on supplies, but having this scope still seems to be comforting in a way. The clouds overshadowing us are floating across the same sky that blankets home, and it's enough to remind me that maybe home isn't so far off after all.

For the first few minutes, neither of us utter a word to each other. I almost feel a sour taste in my mouth, because I know the reason this is even happening is that I decided to get stupidly worked up over nothing. But it wasn't nothing. It was so much more than that, and I desperately want to kick myself _so_ badly or find something – anything – just so maybe I can satisfy myself that I've been punished rightly.

I raise my gaze from the ground to the space in front of me. I don't stay like that for long, though. After a few moments, I have no choice but to turn to face Nana's stern eyes and their determined stare; her glowing, bright, purple eyes intent on illuminating my deep blues.

"Talk to me."

The silence only grows awfully awkward, at least for me: she appears unfazed by my lack of an immediate response, yet still persists.

"Please, Popo."

I sigh.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"I just want to talk to you." She hesitates. "I don't like being ignored, you know."

"Sorry," I mumble quietly.

Nana turns away for a moment, and I instantly feel a pang of guilt again, but my voice refuses to let itself be heard. My lips remain pursed.

"You need to get over it."

The sour taste on my tongue suddenly twists into a scalding bitterness, my head shooting up so I can glare at her properly. She only stares back, eyebrows furrowed, hands clenched into fists. Gusts of wind sweeping past us fill any silence that clouded us.

"...Excuse me?"

She repeats, in a staggered patronising tone: "You. Need. To. Get. Over. It."

"I'm sitting here, expecting you to say something that's actually comforting, and that's the kind of bull you think I want to hear?"

"I think it's exactly what you _need_ to hear, Popo. If I don't tell you, who can?"

My head feels like it's going to break down so, so badly. I've lost enough. I don't need to lose anything or anyone else, not my head, not my life, not my friends. Not Nana. I can only feel myself shuddering at the thought yet shivering horribly from God knows what. Maybe it's the cold or the fact that I can feel the rain about to come again, or maybe the fact that I need to punch something or someone very hard is what's making my whole body quiver this awfully. The last thing I need is this.

"You really want to rub it in my face, don't you?"

Nana's face flashes with shock for just a second, her eyes widening, but still, she continues.

"No, I don't. I...I'm just trying to-"

"Trying to comfort me? I don't know what your definition of 'comforting' is, but it must be very different from mine if you think that's making anything better. I don't understand."

"..."

"This is the one time I need you to be a friend for me, really, and here you are-"

The ground loudly thumps when Nana's clenched fist pounds the ground; her stamp of (dis)approval engraved into the thick whiteness. And now, when I next look at her, her eyes don't seem to be glowing anymore, at least – not with that gentle glow she keeps about her, despite her loudness. It instead seems to reflect just that.

She sucks in a sharp breath. "Listen here, chief boy. Don't _you_ dare and try to make it sound like you're the only one who's lost someone. You think I'm saying that because I don't know how the hell you feel, huh? That I'm trying to mock you?"

"And now you're trying to justify yourself. Nana, come on, I don't get how you're still carrying on saying all this. Just drop it." I hate the raise in volume I hear leave my mouth, the mute I'm trying to keep on starting to slip off and expose my flurry of emotions right here, right now.

"No, no I won't drop it. See who's being stubborn now, hm? _Listen_ to me. Listen to what I want to say-"

But I can't. It's too late for that.

"What have _you_ got to do with any of this?! Are you that stupid? Yet you go around all the time, calling me an idiot left-right-and-centre about everything I do, especially since I'm the one leading here?! God, sometimes I forget how much nerve you have."

I really have let the avalanche plummet, and now our whole mountain is crumbling. Nana's expression is now one of frustration, disgust - whatever it may be, it hurts but purges any bottled feelings I might have left in my sanity. Before I know it, her shouts are louder than mine.

"This is the last thing either of us needs, Popo!"

I have to try and resist grabbing her and screaming right in her face.

"You don't say, huh?"

"You're no more than I am bereaved. You lost your mother as much as I lost my father. She was your mother, not mine, but she was mine when she needed to be. But of course, I couldn't have possibly developed some kind of connection with her, right? Because my real mother, a _real_ one like yours, doesn't even exist anymore! What else could I have felt?"

" _She was_ my _mother!_ "

"You're not the only one who's lost someone. I'm _here_ , you know. So talk to me! Tell me how you feel!" she spits.

Oh, she wouldn't believe how much I'd love to. It's those last words in her last sentence that sting, paralysing me, leaving me unable to respond. I can only glower back at her in disdain.

After the silence finally invades, and the distaste of the words we'd exchanged lingers within it, Nana shakes her head.

"Forget it. Let's just go."

She gets up first, grumpily grabbing her possessions and resetting her climbing equipment on the few ropes and belts she has on her waist. The whole time, even though I know she feels my faint scowl looming over her, my mind still trying to process this blizzard storm passing over us, she doesn't return my glare. Not once.

I know "sorry" won't cut this ice sheet now.


	5. the hearth

" _Oh, why are you crying now, my dear?" She hears the comfort of her father's gentle voice echo into her small bedroom._

" _I...I had a fight with someone to-today," the tearful girl sniffles._

" _A hitting fight?"  
"No, no, no, we- we were shouting and- he said I-"_

" _You don't like what he said?" The girl's father gives her a knowing look, a smile smoothly etched in his face._

 _She hesitates. "...I don't, but maybe he was right, and I- I don't know or anything, I-"_

 _Carefully, the bearded man places his hand, almost double the size of her childish pair, onto her shoulder._

" _Words can be monstrous beasts, dear._

 _But they can also be used to braid the climbing ropes we climbers use to overcome our mountains."_

* * *

The night is eerily silent.

It's not as if it wasn't before or anything. Darkness is supposed to equate to the hours of sleep, something I prefer to indulge myself in. To forget about the troubles of the day and unwind so that I can run away to my little dreamland, its gateway which I can enter simply by shutting my eyes and the world away for those few drowsy hours.

Here, however, the blackness that blankets the mountain ranges isn't ever completely peaceful – it's not the tranquillity the dozens of explorers that descended upon our village described often. Or perhaps that was because they found the glassy glowing lights wavering across the sky calm in the first place; the striking blends of magentas, pristine turquoises and limes, accompanied by the mere twinkles of torch-lit stars a million like shattering ice.

Of course, the ice never really shatters here. Taimo (the name our long-gone ancestors blessed our lands with) more or less appears to be a blank sheet of whiteness from a bird's-eye view, and no different in the eyes of us villagers. When summer does come, even the fireball's rays aren't enough to completely penetrate the frosty chills of our climate, and remains of the snow blankets always seem to linger for the whole season alongside the ghostly chilling air. In mine and Popo's case, I'm more so the fireball where he is the snow.

Like the sun and the moon, day and night, fire and water. Perhaps not complete opposites, but I know we're different enough to bear each other, not so much to detest one another. I'd dread anything like that _ever_ happening.

Except, it seems to have happened already.

Well...no, I don't hate Popo. I'm not sure if I could. He can be irritating, but maybe I'm the same way to him sometimes, right? I sometimes ask myself how he puts up with me as a friend. Of all the people it could have been, a rowdy, cheeky girl wound up being the chief's son's best friend.

Though we were childhood friends, does it mean I can really take the place as "best" friend to him? I technically haven't known him for the longest, even though it feels like I have, because Miko and Riko were friends with Popo long before I arrived in Yukino (makes sense, considering they were _born_ there). Even if I don't have that going for me, I have other things to argue my case with.

For one, I know I know more about Popo than anyone else possibly could in the village. More than Miko or Riko can say. As my fellow friends, I hope they can appreciate that I have been more intimate with him than they may ever have (not in the way they seem to think, though) and that I had other reasons for volunteering for this trip with Popo other than 'wanting him to myself'.

I have him to myself now, but it isn't much use in our current situation. Even though it seems like a lot of effort for him to have blanked me this much, he seems willing enough to try, and I can feel a twinge of pain upon the sudden realisation.

I open my mouth to speak, under our small snow shelter, but quickly decide against it and close it awkwardly. Popo appears to notice my feeble attempt to say something, and for just a moment I catch sight of his piercing glare before he returns to contently ignoring me. I guess it's understandable considering we got into an argument the last time we spoke.

We're at our eighth mountain's peak, resting upon part of its few flatlands, observing the view. Still, no words are exchanged. The pair of us simply stare out, not knowing what to say. This is the third or so night we've done this - perhaps seventh if you include the nights before our quarrel, though the silence had been filled at times by my useless babbling in attempts to get Popo to speak.

Perhaps, if I had thought carefully over how I would confront my grieving friend over his bereavement, he wouldn't seem to resent me so.

"We should get to sleep now. It's late."

"Mm." I seem to be stunned by my current fear of speaking.

I turn away from my blue companion to pull out my fur blanket, but when I turn back, I now find my iris gaze meeting his midnight blues, all of them at once. For a while, he doesn't do anything but stare at me, so when it starts to get a bit creepy, I frown and ask, "What?"

His eyes briefly blink multiple times, as if he's possessed by some sudden realisation or confusion, but he speaks after clearing his throat and regaining his composure.

"It's colder today, so..."

Then it's my turn to blink back at Popo in confusion, until I understand he's inviting me to an embrace under the blankets. Wait, what?

Shaking off my initial shock, I hastily reply, "Y-your point...being?"

"Well, sharing body heat is more or less the only thing we can do to, uh...stay warm now. You know, being on a freezing cold mountain and everything." Popo's cheeks look to be warming a little, and he swiftly averts his eyes from my line of sight. I can only mischievously smirk back at my blushing mess (friend).

Now's my chance.

" _Popo_!" I gasp dramatically, internally bawling over the priceless look on his face when I screech his name. "I admire your confidence and, well, I know it's good to _experiment_ with things in a relationship, but inviting _me_ of all people for you to experiment with your various inte-"

It's Popo's turn to scream my name loudly back at me, his face almost as reddened as a tomato as he retorts, "I wouldn't ask anyone to do _that_ , of all the things you could have thought of!"

He sighs, "There you go, taking things out of context on purpose again," though I notice him murmur it with a small grin.

I smile back. "Context-schmontext. Who needs it?"

The air becomes silent again, as we both try to think of what to say next. The chilling breeze passing us by mimics the quietness of the world around us, not a sound escaping any mouths of wildlife, no Topi or Nitpicker in sight. I realise this is a situation I'm going to have to take the lead in, after seeing how flushed Popo's cheeks are, and tentatively I extend my arm over to him.

"So, you just gonna freeze for the rest of the night…?" I start to shift my body a little closer, but I pay attention to his expression with caution, in case I end up doing something that makes things even more uncomfortable than they already are.

Popo blinks, blushing even more, but he carefully nods, starting to sidle towards me. When we get close enough to one another, I'm the first to fully wrap my arms around his stiff yet snugly fitting body; after just a moment of hesitation, he reciprocates my embrace, and I feel our two presences seem to morph into one flesh, fondly sharing this newfound – no, ever-present homeliness we have with one another. Quietness envelopes our surroundings once again, but there's no need for words, when I know I'm speaking and singing everything I need to like this.

Words are dangerously powerful beauties, but they are not power that need be used.

We soon ease ourselves into a laying position where we can rest our heads on the powdery snow. I feel my body sink a small depth into the ground, the whiteness dented with the silhouette of our connection, and a wave of satisfaction splashes over me. Popo briefly breaks the hug to reach for our blankets further off to the side walls of our cosy shelter, before gently pulling it over us, and I engross myself in the warmth enshrouding me all over my body: the brush-like fur covering, the cool but fluffy snow bits underneath us, and Popo, right here with me, right now.

Even still, I could have already told from his earlier stumbling and unsureness that he hasn't forgiven me, not for those bitter things I uttered to him days ago. It annoys me, but he needs more time to fully comprehend what I tried to say. Whether I failed or not is a mystery to me, one I can only hope he will be willing to unwind on his own. For that, I can only offer so much in cheap words my feeble voice calls out, though...I fear it screeched them instead.

"Good night, Nana." He pauses. "Sleep well, okay?"

"I can't say that's impossible." It really isn't, I smile softly to myself, nestling my head a little closer underneath Popo's so my breath just brushes against his neck. I have to try not to giggle when I notice him tense up in his arms when I do that, which only causes me to nuzzle further into our embrace. It's more than I need, though, and that's all I want to be able to get through this night.

* * *

"We haven't slept together like this in a while, huh?"

"Well, no. We stopped having sleepovers ages ago."

That much is true. As younger children, we'd often spend nights at one another's homes (even though our cabins weren't much of a distance from each other) for the sake of- well, togetherness, I suppose. I always enjoyed those moments, because it meant we'd get to play for longer and stay together for longer and all the good things would last for just a few seconds, minutes, hours longer. But naturally, the time came when society's gaze would object to such a thing between us. The last time I remembered having a sleepover with Popo was around the time we were both nine or ten.

"I guess it'd be a bit weird if we still did." I laugh nervously.

Popo rolls his eyes. "Miko would accuse us of trying to make babies or something."

"Doesn't she do that all the time?"

I sigh, stuffing my blanket from yesterday into my pack messily – not because I don't care, but mostly because I'm a bit too lazy to bother to try and fold it up properly. My bag looks largely lumpy and chunky, and I know it'll make everything feel a bit heavier than it actually is, but no matter.

We begin our descent of the mountain today, planning to reach its foot by nightfall and possibly travelling over to the next nearby village by the mountain circuit. This is a good time as any for us to rest up for a little while before conquering another eight or so mountains. Weirdly enough, I feel _used_ to consistently ascending and descending peaks, occasionally confronting the condor where it lingers for a bit before successfully making off with our food sack once again. It's a boring cyclical structure, but if it means being a cool, badass heroine with an equally badass partner like Popo for longer, I'm all in.

"I swear, she always tries to make it out to everyone that we're going out. Excessively." I groaned.

The blue-coated boy chuckles. "She's one of the only people who still actually press on about it,"

he says, shaking his head.

"Do we look _that_ much like a couple?" I muse, stopping to think. "We're a boy and girl pair of people, but that's it, right?"

Throughout our lives, we've always been mistaken for one of two things: twin siblings, since we apparently look that similar (I personally can't find anything besides the brown hair, but even then, my brown's always been duller than Popo's) or a young couple with a fresh, ripe romance going for them. Heck, even our own _classmates_ used to tease us so often, I guessed for the sake of teasing us and striking that nerve inside me that explodes when they mentioned anything about the idea of us ever going out. It's a relief that it's started to die down for a myriad of reasons, what with it being an old over-used joke, other guys worried over getting on Popo's bad side (mostly in fear that he would use his position as chief heir to his advantage), other guys worried over getting on _my_ bad side-

Oh, and the fact that in just two years, when he turned sixteen, Popo was due to be married off if he hadn't found a suitable partner by then. Making sure the chief bloodline kept going for as long as possible and stuff by reproducing early or something.

It had taken me an awfully long time to realise that the few other girls our age actually entertained the thought that I'd be willing enough to snatch their precious chief boy away from them, probably because they thought I'd want to gloat about how it would have been me all along, that I knew him best and _I_ was best for him, silly nonsense like that. When these thoughts and senseless accusations had penetrated their thoughts, I couldn't recall, but it was around then that they'd begun to show any hostility against me.

"It's probably 'cause of that that people assume we're dating."

Tiredly, I sling my pack on, shortly double-triple-checking my laces on my snow boots. Then I try to imagine Popo and I, together, dating, a couple. Even the thought of it sounds like some sadly surreal world far away.

An abnormal feeling of tenseness grips me as I try to even consider it. I did _go out_ with Popo on a regular basis, albeit only as a platonic friend spending time with another platonic friend. I cast my mind back to what I often see the older young couples of our village do together: ambling through the marketplace arm in arm, the girl excitedly squealing over the trinkets and accessories at merchants' booths, pointing at every little item she sees and begging her companion to pretty _please_ get that adorable little thing for her, a sweet honey smile plastered across her face, and then he'd nod, succumbing to whatever beauty he saw in that cute face of hers and spoiling her with anything and everything. Or sometimes, perhaps they'd find a cosy little nook somewhere behind some tiny street where they were finally alone together, before their lips locked and they yanked each other into a deep, passionate embrace, moaning sweet nothings into each other's mouths and-

" _Bleurgh!"_

At least going over that in my head convinces me that the very concept of _us_ like _that_ is unfathomable.

Popo looks over at me, puzzled. "What?"

"Ah!...I didn't mean you, I was just thinking about something else."

"Oh. Okay."

No way in hell is that happening. Sooner or later, Popo will already have some other charming beauty to settle down with and have more than enough children to secure his family line, and I…

It's kind of a given that I'll have to do something about that kind of thing too, being the only child my parents had. I feel like it'd be a bit of a disappointment to them if I decide to become a lonely old lady for the rest of my brief years on this planet with only a dozen Topis for company, the same fate few of the elders in the village have unfortunately been greeted by. Besides, I know even if my father was still here, he'd already be pressing me about marriage decisions as much as Popo's mother would to her own; it's something the adults seem to take more seriously than any of us could.

I'll just settle with finding some other person, the way it should be.


	6. climbing ropes

" _Do you have someone you like?"_

" _Hm…? I like lots of people. Like you. You're my best friend, after all."_

 _Her face starts to flush a little. "No, I mean...the other kind of like."_

 _The boy's cheeks also begin to redden into a pale rose shade. "Um...I dunno. Mama says only big people do. Maybe I will when I'm a big kid." He pauses._

" _Why do you want to know?"_

 _Slightly embarrassed, her purple eyes are quick to flicker away from his questioning gaze._

" _No reason."_

* * *

I indulge myself in the gentle breeze flowing past as we tread the footpath towards the village – not our own, of course, we're far from there – our route embossed into the thickness beneath us. No sooner than later would our tracks be hidden once again by the raining snow, a short journey long forgotten, unlike the events that have occurred in the past few days.

Now is just as good a time to pause our climbing journey. Not for long, of course; time will race past us if we linger for even a second too long, and we're yet to retrieve our entire harvest. The bare scraps we'd managed to just grasp a few mountains ago won't last long for the village. We need to hurry.

Nana sighs deeply, suddenly halting in her tracks.

"I never thought I'd end up back here again."

I turn round to face her, noticing her apprehensively staring down at the white ground, her hands clenched the way they always are when she's worried. Distressed. Nervous. Uneasy.

Scared.

She has good reason to be, too, at least from what she's told me. We both know well enough that Hachigo isn't the most welcoming of places to our kind. 'Snowbats', Nana says they call us, or will do so if they do find out about the things we can do. I feel my stomach seem to turn inside out as I imagine it in my head: the screeches of 'witch! Demons! _Monsters!'_ and everything else horrible. Stones and all the rest of it that you hear about.

Yet, that's nothing compared to what Nana could have possibly gone through in the few years her family had resided in Hachigo. I know little of it, having never experienced that kind of prejudice myself; I shudder to think about her suffering accounts. Seven years of torment and torture she'd managed to survive, living with distasteful stares and foul words spat at her here, there, everywhere, because they must have known about it, the blessed curse that divided her family from their normal, mundane society.

"Your mother's buried here though, right…? This could be an opportunity to-"

"What's the point of that? You really think they'd have left her gravestone untouched after all this time?" she snaps, heavily scowling at me for just a second. Her face abruptly contorts into one of disbelief, guilt- and her angrily crinkled eyebrows immediately soften into her apologetic expression now crossing her visage. Quickly cupping her hands over her mouth, she adds (scarcely audibly) "Sorry."

I shake my head in response. "I shouldn't have mentioned it. It was my fault."

Nana unexpectedly grabs me by my shoulders, turning me towards her so that I'm directly facing her, meeting her gleaming iris-violet orbs accompanied by her pouty frown, one more of annoyance than of disappointment.

"If I took a shot of Nitopi every time I've heard you say that, I'd be dead by now." She tightens her clutch. "Stop saying everything's your fault."

It doesn't take long for me to notice the double meaning she's lumped into that very statement – I feel the urge to push her away and shove past her begin to fill me once again, but not yet to the brim, so I settle for a simple aversion of her gaze. But no matter how hard I try to focus on the not-particularly-fascinating shrub of snowdrops off the path, she only holds on tighter, her fierce aura refusing to dissipate as she stares daggers.

Finally, she relaxes her grip, also gazing off to the side as we stand rooted to the ground, neither of us uttering a single word. The fact that she's still adamant on lecturing me on _that_ is nearly as irritating as the litters of Topis that we've faced: constantly freezing up cove passages, hurling icicles directly at us, never actually disappearing…

She exhales tiredly, forcing a faint smile. "Let's not worry about the villagers too much. It's not like they'll be able to tell off the bat that we have the magic, right?" Nana pauses. "Pun _not_ intended." Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she quickly spins on her heel, starting to continue on as if that short moment had never happened.

I hate how tense I grow whenever petty spats like this happen between us. It's rare enough for us to even fight in the first place, and in the event that we do – unfortunately, very much like our current predicament – often we find it simple enough to merely give one another a nod of approval, short apologies that say more than enough, then there we are, back climbing the mountain once more. This climb, however, isn't going to be a breeze as gentle as the wind swooping past. It never was in the first place.

So if I'm so used to this, why do the ropes around my waist feel so tight?

* * *

The snow crunching beneath our feet sounds heavier than it should. Each step we take further into the grounds of Hachigo leaves me feeling even more dubious, as the wet sludge I'm dragging myself through tugs at me, trapping me in this picturesque hell.

Hachigo itself is a breathtakingly scenic landscape, though it's significantly smaller in size in comparison to Yukino. If it weren't for the fear instilled in me the moment I set foot here, I'd be more than happy to spend longer time here. That thought soon becomes a brief daydream, the scenes playing through like a puppet show as I envision what could be – ambling hand in hand alongside Nana, listening to melodic words spoken of happy vignettes of a long-lost childhood away in a world where we knew nothing of one another, ignorantly innocent. A memory that could be, were it not for the absence of the happiness itself.

The first thing that I'd noticed upon entering, however, was the warmth this cold place emanates. Not through its people; though no villagers make any efforts to shun us, they make an equal one out of welcoming us to their residence, not particularly bothering to observe us by any means. It appears this side of Icicle Mountain (the east) exhibits more of the sun's rays than it ever has back home. While the air is almost as chilling as our northern winds at home, brightening warmth envelopes our surroundings, awakening flora unknown as they gaze up to that godly light. Pure white snowdrops are a common sight in our region, but they could never compare to the deep azures of these alpine gentians in bloom, or the lilac campion daintinesses sprinkled across the snow like purple rain. If there's one thing Hachigo is best known for, it's its natural beauty. The whole place seems a little like a quaint garden of wonders at first sight, and would do even more so if the community did kind enough to accompany that impressive bewilderment their visitors meet.

As for the cottages that compose the village's presence, they're no bigger than the smaller cabins of Yukino, but instead of firm log roofs protecting their interiors, they're instead topped by thickly thatched coverings of straw, giving off a somewhat medieval vibe. The windows, whilst still made of glass, have an additional wooden door concealing them, a few with mini flower-boxes perched onto a couple of apertures that add a spike of colour to the dull brown clay walls. Yet those petals speckled around the village are the only true source of colour in the place – while it's admittedly beautiful, the drab buildings themselves, though I hate to say it, almost spoil the astonishment of the natural surroundings.

"...We'd best find an inn or somewhere to stay for a night or two soon," I wonder out loud, briefly scanning the architectures around me. Nana doesn't reply, only nodding to signal that she heard my statement. Though the sun is still present in the sky, the latter is now a soft golden shade, harmoniously accompanying its star as it gradually begins to set behind the mountain.

The pair of us roam around the village for a while in silence. There isn't much for me to say to my partner at this point in time since her awkward shuffles more or less tell the fact that she isn't willing to speak. There's that tight worry rippling in my stomach again – like I'm scared any sound that leaves my lips will stab her as painfully as it did earlier. At this point, I can't tell if I'm just being insecure or if it's the eerie unfriendliness of this place.

We eventually come across a small hostel affordable enough for both of us when sharing the few pyks we have between us – thankfully, just enough to pay for our needs. Similarly to earlier, upon our arrival into the building, no onlookers take much notice of us, most of them far too engrossed in their own conversations and activities to notice the foreign tourists strutting in.

When I say that it's small, I mean it's small. There's quite a crowd packed into the lobby down here, with more or less all of the tables occupied by customers. Without a doubt, many of the lodgings upstairs are probably going to be just as congested, so I begin to doubt whether we'll be able to reserve a space.

Luckily for us, the queue by the counter quickly disintegrates after several drinks of Nitopi are hurriedly served, their stench disappearing with their new owners. Shortly after, Nana and I are the next to be managed, our gazes meeting an elderly woman's worn wrinkled face, her expression fatigued.

Being one of the first people to acknowledge us, she smiles weakly. "And how can I help you two young'uns?" the woman asks with a raspy voice.

"Uh, we'd like to have a room for one night, please." I reply, placing the pyks on the counter hesitantly. Something about this woman is oddly intimidating.

This only causes her to grin even more, so much that it almost seems forced for the sake of selling her business to us, the corners of her mouth stretched across the length of her face.

"Not g'nna get up to any naughty business now, 're we?"

I sense Nana tense up at the old lady's little 'joke', abruptly slamming both of her hands onto the tabletop as she exclaims, "That's not- we're not like-!"

Half-expecting the woman to simply laugh along, it's my turn to stiffen as her expression flashes from one of vague friendliness into leering suspicion, as she sceptically looks Nana up and down.

"You seem familiar, lass."

Nana freezes. I'm about to open my mouth to provide much-needed back-up for her, but she answers before I can, plastering a less nerved mask onto herself. In the sweetest voice she can muster, she responds, "Do I? I don't recall having been here before, I'm afraid," with a light chuckle.

Another uncomfortable pause fills the air between us and the innkeeper, who thinks to herself for a moment. To both our inner reliefs, she isn't able to place her finger on when she may have seen Nana before, and her tight frown loosens back into a frail simper. Sliding the pyks towards herself, she places them into a small moneybox, before handing us a key each for our lodging.

"Of course you hav'n't, dearie. My instinct's wearing out as much as I am already." She nods her head. "I apologise for the suspicion, sweetheart. See, somethin' was tryn'a tell me a lovely little girl such as yourself was one of those disgusting snowbats, right?"

Nana winces at the mention of the label, but retains her calm, honeyed composure in front of the old granny, who continues her drone.

"Last dirty bunch of them took off years ago, thank God for that," she spits. "That Hana, she was such a lovely, respectable young lady, 'nd then she decided to marry that demon. Worst thing's th't they produced a dirty little brat, too. You couldn't even call her a girl, not the way she is." The fear in me that had been faintly present upon our entrance into this wretched place crescendos with every hateful word that exits her resentful mouth. In Nana, however, doesn't seem to be fear: her slight trembles are evidently growing into livid shivers, her camouflage melting away as her inner fire burns with increasing fury every second. Now I have more than one thing to be worried about.

"I rememb'r feeling nearly 'arf sorry for that little monster. If her mother'd married a normal man, she'd be born just as human as the rest of us." the woman titters, shaking her head disappointedly.

"Marrying that beast was the end of her humanity. Ended up shrivelled up and sickly by the time she was 25. I bet his plan the whole time was to kill her slowly, just like that."

Those last words leaving her mouth are the trigger to Nana's avalanche. She looks as if she's about to burst into a fit of rage if she hears anymore, so I quickly interject the innkeeper's spiteful monologue, saying,

"Well, it'd certainly be dreadful if there _were_ any of them here."

"Darn right you are! They'd kill us all in one blizzard." She seems to ignore or not notice the unintentional drop of sarcasm in my reply. The woman starts muttering inaudible complaints and whatnot to herself, so I immediately seize the opportunity to hastily thank her for her 'hospitality' before dragging Nana away with me back outside. She needs some cold air, anyway.

When we're far enough from the hostel and its listening ears, Nana allows herself to let out a loud scream of frustration, anger, sadness, hatred and sorrow. She sinks down to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest as she sobs, and I fall with her, accompanying her in her melancholy.

"I hate this place." she whimpers.

I don't say anything in reply, unsure of whether I should reply in the first place. Nana will want me to say something instead of giving her the silent treatment, but I've never been good with words, even if I am in her eyes.

I decide a gentle hug will suffice, and I wrap my arms around her figure, careful not to squeeze too tight.

She continues to sniffle between her faint tears, but slowly brings her arms up to hold me. I'm almost able to hear the smile on her face when she murmurs, "Thank you," through muffled hands.

There was a time a couple of years ago, when we'd just began to ascend into adolescence, where I was far too shy for my own good to even touch my friend (let alone hold her hand), partly because I was too awkward to be as close to her as we had been as young children, but mostly because I was scared.

I was scared of onlooking gazes and the thoughts that might cross their minds if they saw us...like that. It wouldn't look like innocent playfulness between two good friends – no, it would be twisted into an undeclared attraction of that sort, twisted with our growth. Saying "we're just friends" never made a difference anyway, did it? It just _had_ to be, of course. There was no way our friendship _wouldn't_ become that romance, sooner or later. Because you can't be just friends when it comes to boys and girls.

That's why I'm cherishing this moment, a moment where I can be Nana's friend, nothing more or less, free from the bold judgemental leers of the world. A girl that deserves the best love she can get, with the best friends she can have in the best place on this planet.

Our friendship is my duty, one I'm glad to have, and I refuse to fail.

"I don't want them to hurt you," Nana whispers. She quietly laughs for a short moment, continuing, "Even if they catch us, I'll get the worse punishment anyway, so that's good. I'm sure they'll love having a familiar face to beat up."

I barely notice my embrace tighten ever so slightly. "That won't happen, so don't think about it. I'll make sure it doesn't."

"What, are you my bodyguard or something?" she chuckles.

"Obviously."

Nana finally looks up from her lap, turning her head to face me with an impish grin. "It's meant to be the other way round, dummy."

Rolling my eyes with a smirk, I shoot back, "Well, we'll both be happy if we agree to be each other's bodyguards. Do we have a deal?" I ask, extending my hand out to her.

She returns a knowing stare, smiling as she grasps my hand between both of hers.

"Deal."

* * *

"Is this all we need?" I hold up a couple of ropes to show Nana, who's preoccupied with some weird thingamabobs on display in a nearby stall. We're currently browsing the evening market, a unique feature of Hachigo that can't be found anywhere else (most merchants back in Yukino are too lazy to stay out for the rest of the night), gathering spare supplements we'll need to traverse the next few mountains with.

"Ropes and a few water bottles should be enough," she hollers back, still concentrated on the trinkets. Curious, I make my way over to her to see what's stealing her attention so badly. The stall keeper doesn't seem at all bothered by Nana's own interest in his goods, just standing there watching her inspect the various products he has for sale with a tired look on his face.

Taking a look myself, I observe various rocks and shimmering crystals along a couple of shelves, presumably artefacts from the seller's own travels that he has no longer use for; minuscule snow globes with wooden displays encapsulated within them, lightweight pebbles used to mimic the falling snow; wooden ornaments resembling flora and fauna alike, with intricately carved features, and-

Hanging from parts of his stall are short threaded bracelet-like straps, which I then understand are accessories designed to adorn bags, wrists, hair – the colours woven into them create a satisfying harmony with one another. Nana's eyes appear illuminated by one particular one, however; it's a strap braided with pink and blue threads, with delicate crystals between several of the strings, giving off the appearance of snow crystals sprinkled along with it. The colours alternate: pink, blue, pink, blue, all tied together into one structure.

"How much do you want for one of those?" I inquire, pointing to the strap Nana's focused on. She suddenly looks up, only just noticing my presence, but I don't return her look for the moment.

"They come in pairs," the stall keeper replies. "3 pyks for a pair."

Without delay, I pass the coins over, in exchange for the straps that the man happily hands over to me (I assume we're one of the few sales he's gotten in a while), and I, in turn, present one of the straps to Nana. She blinks back at me for a second, bewildered.

"I was just looking. You didn't have to go to all that trouble," she sighs, rolling her eyes with a slight blush. When she faces me again, there's an odd curious glint in her eyes.

I just smile back. "Don't worry about it," I reply, hardly noticing the rise in heat in my cheeks from her reaction. This prompts her to let a smirk cross her face again, and she pats the other strap in my hand.

"This is the first time we've gotten matching friendship bracelets. Like, ever!"

Oh, so that's what they are. It sounds like something I should know, but no matter. If they're friendship bracelets, then maybe she's got the message already.

A short period of quietness passes between us as we begin our journey back to the inn before I speak again.

I give myself a deep breath. "Um..."

She stops walking for a moment, quizzically raising an eyebrow. "Hm?"

"...Think of it as an apology, I guess."

I'm not quite sure how I expect Nana to respond, because I'm too busy thinking over the bad ways this could possibly go. I don't want her to get the wrong idea or anything- not that she will, of course, but it's hard to tell with her.

Instead, she shakes her head, though a weird grin is still imprinted on her face. "You don't need to be sorry for anything, Popo. I was being hard on you, so- so I'm the one who should be saying sorry." She beams up at me, even though we only have a bare height difference.

"Oh, what are you talking about? I overreacted and said all those awful things, things no one needs to hear-"

"Popo." Nana's stare is now one of sternness, slightly scrunched up into a serious frown. "I'm...glad you've realised your mistakes. But let me admit to mine too, okay?"

It's weird for me to say it out loud, but that's an oddly selfless thing for Nana to say. Not that I'm doubting her, but-

"I thought I understood your suffering, but I've realised something now." She carries on talking.

"There's no way, ever, that I'll understand it. Just like how...how, I won't ever really comprehend some things about you. Like why you always, _always_ blame yourself for everything, even when you really don't need to, or why you're never truly sure of yourself. It's sad, but I can still appreciate you the best I can, right?"

Stunned, I can't immediately think of a response to Nana's musing. My mind's still trying to process what she's saying.

"But that time, when I thought I was saying what was best for you, I was just being selfish. Like I usually am, but I- I don't want to be, it slips and..." She laughs nervously, before stuttering uncontrollably again. "No, I shouldn't be making excuses. I mean, there aren't any- I...I guess what I'm trying to say is..."

It's very rare for me to see Nana like this, an often confident, outspoken girl like herself lost with her words. Twisting a braid around her finger, she grants herself a moment to inhale and exhale, calming herself.

"I'm sorry for being an awful friend," she says, a sad, cracked smile forming.

My eyes widen, bewildered by this sudden change in behaviour. "Nana, you're anything but that! What's up with you?" I can't stop stuttering, confusion clouding my head as I try to face who _should_ be Nana, standing in front of me, yet...she isn't acting it. "Why are you saying all of this...this nonsense?"

But she only laughs again. "It's not nonsense, silly."

"It is if I say it is," I rebut, sounding a little more aggressive than I like. I murmur a brief apology before continuing.

"You're amazing. You know that, right?" The words I try to form come out shaky, to my discontentment. But they need to be said.

"That's what I'd like to think," she grins, though hints of tears sparkle against her eyes. "if it was true."

"Which it just so happens to be," I argue, briskly taking her hands into mine.

"You're no more perfect than I am-"- both her eyebrows raise as she realises that I've paraphrased the words she imparted to me nights ago - "-and that's okay. You can be clumsy and reckless, you don't think before doing things, but most of all,"

I raise a hand, my index finger pointed up so I can gently poke Nana's nose; she can only pout in retaliation.

"You use your mouth to insult yourself too much, even when you don't realise it. I wish you wouldn't, honestly. I wish you'd realise how strong you are, whether it's when you climb or when you stand up for people or… or even when you're dancing." That last statement brings a small grin across her face. I know if I give her time to speak, she'll make some snarky comment about how she can't dance despite everything I've said, so I keep on going.

"You aren't perfect, but you're better than that. You're so imperfect it's surpassing perfection. That's why you're my friend." I pause. "So, to correct your sentence: you're a brilliant friend."

It's only then after I say that last part that my eyes were closed the whole time – when I next open them, Nana's face is one of shock. Anyone might expect her to be in tears, having them stream down her face to accompany her perplexity, but her violet irises are only opened wide, in a surprised stare. She looks as if she's still attempting to comprehend what message I tried to deliver to her, so I don't say anything for a while, letting the silence drown out my worries instead.

Nana briefly shakes herself a little, brushing herself down until she feels she can face me again. Her purple eyes look as if they're glistening even more than before when she was first met with surprise, kind of like the rocky crystals and gems from the stall earlier. Maybe better.

"Right back at ya, Popo. Thanks."

She pulls her hands away so she can inherit the capacity to yank me into a tight bear hug - short but sweet, even though I can't move my arms at all. A brief giggle escapes her lips, and she smiles again, before pulling the bracelet back out of her pocket. She ties it onto her right wrist, firmly and tightly. As it sparkles on top of her leather brown gloves, she says, "Put yours on, too."

Initially, the thought startles me, what with the whole idea of me wearing a bracelet seeming too surreal to consider, but I agree anyway. I latch the strap onto my left, concealing part of it with my parka sleeve and glove so that it's safely nestled away. Placing my wrist side-by-side with Nana's hand, I observe the match between us.

With a slight flush, I murmur, "Does it look alright?"

"I mean, duh. Obviously it does," Nana smirks. "'Cause I'm wearing mine with you."

An odd warming happiness ripples in my stomach. "Is that so?" I chuckle.

"Uh-huh. I wouldn't match a friendship bracelet with a stranger."

"Mm...maybe we should have gotten some for Miko and Riko, too-"

But I don't finish, because I'm interrupted by a loud "No!" blurted out by Nana. She turns pink, almost blending in with her parka, save the puffy whites of her hood and sleeves, but it reminds me of her abrupt outburst earlier at the peak of our recent mountain. Whatever it is that's pushing her weird behaviour, it probably isn't something I should pursue right now.

Muffling her voice with the rough material of her gloves, she mutters "Sorry. Uh, what I meant was...well, it'd be cooler if we kept this between us, right?" It sounds more like a half-hearted excuse she made up five seconds ago, though I don't pay attention to that for the time being.

I shrug. "If that's how you want it, I guess."

It doesn't matter to me either way. It shouldn't. I mean, well, having just this one thing special to me and Nana only is somewhat lifting in spirit, yet I can't help but feel a pang of guilt for not thinking of my other friends imminently. I guess Nana only came to mind first because she was closest to me at the time.

"I mean...I know they're friendship bracelets. I get what you mean and everything, but-"

Mid-sentence, she turns towards me.

"-they were sold in pairs for a reason."


	7. follow the leader

_"That's too far into the forest! We aren't supposed to go there!" he exclaims, looking anxiously after his friend._

 _She groans. "It won't take long. Stop being such a scaredy-cat!"  
_

 _But he can only stutter and shiver in response, still worried about the hidden secrets of that corner. Then his companion extends her hand out to him beckoningly._

 _"It'll be fine. I'm here for you!"_

* * *

He blinks, somewhat startled by my reply. Perhaps it's because it sounds out of character or because I keep randomly yelling nonsense at the wrong times, but he can only stare back in response, perplexed.

"There were only two of these colours anyway. We wouldn't have had enough for Miko and Riko."

I sound so selfish...but that's on par with most things I say, right?

"Is something wrong, Nana?"

"What?"

His visage creased by a concerned frown, Popo raises an eyebrow curiously at me- he's doing it _again_. Those brilliant night blue eyes piercing through my thickly coated parka like an ice axe plunging into a frozen sheet. If I'm not careful, the packed ice is going to melt.

"You've been acting a bit weird at times."

Evenings in Hachigo are usually warmer than the day, oddly enough. I wonder if it's affecting the ice. It's as if the beaming flames from the sun only decide to linger after their bearer hides behind the horizon; their heat embracing everyone, everything, every bit of me.

I barely notice my finger twirl my braid in circles. "I act weird all the time. What's your point?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Nana."

My feet grow heavy, unlike the lightness that was carried by the threads around my wrist when I'd tied it. Though we're both at a standstill, I'm anchored by those same strings as I convince myself to make eye contact with him. I sigh.

"I've just had a lot on my mind." With enough effort, I manage to uproot my feet from the ground and grin, "But it's nothing important, so don't worry about it, okay?"

That's right. It's nothing.

I almost trip out of haste as I begin to skip ahead of Popo, ahead of his confused gaze before he starts to follow me again. Instead of turning to see if he's not too far behind me or not, my gaze focuses on the hollow of houses and small inns lying before us, faint whispers of candlelight echoing from their windows. They illuminate our sky here like stepping stone lanterns; they illuminate our path and the dim light behind our eyes.

When we arrive back at the hostel the first thing I want to do is fling myself onto my bed upstairs and fall away from reality's realness, but my grumbling stomach decides against it and I accompany my friend to the confined seating area. I doubt the nourishment cooked by that old hag's anything delectable enough to satisfy my taste buds, but at this point I'd gladly feast on a rotten table. This is probably what happens when you live off vegetables for weeks on freezing cold glaciers.

...At least it's hot food.

* * *

"Hey, sleepyhead. Rise and shine."

The vibration of my vocal chords barely mewls a groan muffled by the downy fluffiness of my pillow, enough of an indication of my unwillingness. Why Popo's bothering to even try and rouse me from my sleep is a mystery to me – but he goes ahead and ruffles my hair lightly, prompting me to retrieve enough spirit to (attempt) to push away his hand.

Refusing to move any more, I mumble, "I haven't slept in a proper bed since... forever. Go away."

In truth, the bedding provided for our lodgings isn't anything spectacular, but it certainly feels comfier than lying on chilling snow that drowns you in your sleep. My duvet continues to wrap me with its fur's hugging warmth, encasing me like a cocoon and defending my slumber as I continue to dream of h-

" _Hey!"_

Or not.

My shell is swiftly drawn away from me, leaving only my shivering body curled upon the mattress before I catch a glimpse of his stern expression, the duvet bundled up in both of his hands whose grip only tightens as he raises an eyebrow. Of _course_ , I should have guessed he'd bother pulling off a prank like this: Popo, the chief's son who'll get things his way if he wants to; not a side he shows often.

It's hard for me to stifle my outburst of laughter when I see his eyebrows furrow into a frown, especially when they're combined with his "angry" pout. It's a face that's been morphed similarly into his father's, refined and sagacious, but his gleaming night blue globes of leadership have kept their time. Despite his amusing attempt at wearing a serious manner, his hilariously pathetic idea of a joke vanishes the moment my giggles permeate the air. I can only laugh even harder when I listen to the joyous harmony produced when his laughter joins mine; catching my breath, I gasp,

"Couldn't you have thought of something better than _that_?"

A faint smirk crossing his face, he replies, "Well, it worked, right?" He lets out another small fit of chuckles before he tosses the duvet back towards me so it lands neatly on top of me once more, though the fuzzy heat gained from it is somewhat milder. My earlier burst into giggles rendered me almost breathless, almost red-faced, and I muster but a vague nod of my head in response.

"Hurry up and get ready, anyway." Popo lightly jerks his head in the direction of the small washroom provided alongside our chamber. "Or we're going to end up leaving late." The sun's barely risen above the mountains we can see from our window, but its hazy glow echoes above the range. Overshadowing its triumph is only sky, tinged a tangy violet by the light.

I finally will myself to drag my body off the bed, my feet plopping onto the creaking floorboards before they carry me away. There isn't a necessity for me to get dressed (since nightclothes hadn't been a priority on our packing list and would have been a waste of space anyway), so I only briefly brush myself down and wash my face before cleaning my teeth. My braids haven't been untied since last evening, stray strands of dishevelled hair detaching from the delicate ribbons I usually weave them into; there isn't a mirror present in the washroom for some odd reason.

As I pull at the weak threads holding their remains together, I re-enter the main chamber with curtains of cedar brown falling beside my face, ending just by my elbows. I notice Popo's eyes widen a little as he observes my unbraided coiffure, though it isn't the first time he's seen it. Before I can say a word, however, he averts his gaze to the fascinating objects within his pack instead. Away from me.

"Aren't you packing too?" he inquires without looking up.

I roll my eyes. "I'm not ready yet," I sigh, absent-mindedly feeling my way around the bedside table

for my comb. "Have you seen my hair?" .

"You don't look that bad."

I can only scoff at his remark, despite how casually he'd said it, as if it was a breeze of a fact to understand like the whistling winds here. "I appreciate your manners, Popo. But I need serious help."

Beckoning me over to him, where he's sat on his own bed fiddling with possessions, Popo produces his own pair of hair bands, coloured crimson like my own. My subsequent blink of surprise is followed by a curt "Sit here," when he pats the spot on the bed beside him, sliding the bands onto his wrist ready to tie.

I don't need to question what he's doing; it's a scene I've familiarised myself with over the growth of our time together, my companion's tactful fingers gently knitting my locks into beauty only he seems to be able to provide for me. I remember the times I'd repeatedly taught the steps over and over again to him, the frustration I openly voiced when the spirals were lopsided and wonky. At first I'd thought it couldn't be helped – he was (and is) a boy, after all. But now the student has surpassed the master, and I feel a light chuckle rise from the warmth of my chest produced by my reminiscence.

"Do we have an actual plan for catching that wretched thing?" I muse. For the past eight peaks, we've just been chasing after it as soon as it takes off to the next mountain – not before it littered a few stray vegetables out of the sack it clutched to. Thus, it's simultaneously one of our only sources of food when we're not at a village: pick out the bits of harvest that haven't been bruised too badly and refuel ourselves. Our only current hope is to officially capture or eliminate the beast and safely retrieve the sack without any injuries. The speed is the only thing we lack. Or is it the height in our leaps? Even so, we're only human, despite what some may call our inhumanities.

"Well. If what the legends say is true, it'll just lead us around the surrounding peaks of Icicle Mountain while it can. It knows we won't be able to catch it that way, and we'll be stuck in an endless loophole."

Whether those tales are valid or not, no one can be sure; things only pass by word of mouth, of course, and have done so for generations. Our village's particular elder was the one to impart these stories to us and fellow peers as children, warning of how the rise of the monstrous condor was once again nearing with every passing day and night. Of how he would pillage our homes of our delicious life, our rejuvenating resources, our survival. He cried of how he feared our lives would never be as long as our ancestors before us.

But if they were able to get through it all, we should too.

I sigh again. "Everyone'll have starved to death by then."

Popo flawlessly secures both of my braids, tying them with just the right amount of tightness, and only nodding in response. "That's why it's up to us to capture it," he replies.

For a while, I don't say anything, my gaze fixated on his own focus in handling my hair, as if it's some faithful duty. Perhaps I'm reading too deep into it, though. He looks up to meet my eyes, upon noticing my daydreaming stare, smiling kindly. "Anyway, I think I'm finished here. Is that better?"

I grin back with affirmation. "It's best!"

"You flatter me." His smile broadens ever so slightly upon hearing my compliment.

Popo smiled a lot when we were kids, I remember. He was always so...happy to do things – not in the hyperactive, fervent manner of most juveniles, though, he always preferred to enjoy his luxuries quietly. I'd barely heard him talking to himself amongst his toys when I'd entered his room for the first time, entered the village for the first time, my Papa with his Papa explaining our pickle, and I finding a friend. We were happy – are happy – to have forged a bond with one another, set in wood.

We'd scratched something in one of the hundreds of spruce trees of the forest a long time ago, a year or two after we befriended each other. Whatever it was, it marked our everlasting friendship. It hasn't failed us yet.

Will it last longer if I carve deeper into the bark? Deeper thoughts?

I snap back to reality as Popo lightly nudges me on the side. "You're daydreaming again." How long have I been quiet for? I ask myself dumbly. I give myself a small shake before replying, brushing my silence off as casually as he spoke earlier.

"What if we just skip everything?" I say suddenly.

"Huh?"

Hesitation chokes my throat, but I fight it and continue. "I mean, just...if we get up Icicle Mountain before the thing. We'll have an advantage over it, right?"

"Do you even know what you're saying, Nana?!" Popo's voice is abruptly louder than it was before, a terraced dynamic compared to the softness I previously described. He's not angry, but his tone is incredulous, both his eyebrows and eyes widened like huge (blue) snowballs. I can't pretend I don't know why, though.

"What, would you rather we just chase it around in circles?" I accidentally snap back a little too harshly, so I murmur an apology. He dismisses it, however, instead reiterating his earlier bewilderment:

"We'll _die_ trying to even attempt that peak. What good will that do for everyone?"

I shake my head. "They'll starve to death in both scenarios. I don't mean to sound morbid, but it's the truth, right?" After he doesn't say anything except a quiet mutter to himself that I ignore, I add, "If we get this over with sooner, everyone will have to suffer less. That's what good it'll do."

To be brutally honest, I'm not sure which method I prefer. Simply circling the mountain endlessly – a bore that would come with bags of time for me to indulge in their luxury. Time spent with- you know what I'm going to say, right? Though, then we'd die slower, or just as sluggishly as everyone back home would. We'd run out of supplies one day. But at this point, even death seems bearable if I'm alongside a friend. Then our bond would truly be frozen, unbreakable, eternally forever.

If that doesn't happen, what could the outcome be? There are other villages just like this one that we could stay in whenever we need rest or food. If we aimlessly followed the condor around, like a cat with yarn, what would we be? Travelling nomads for the rest of our years? Hand in hand, maybe we'd revisit vignettes of memories we make along the ring we ambled along, even if we only pass the same houses, trees, mountains every time. Just the two of us, together. We'd never go home. Perhaps at home they'd think we were killed, having met the same demise as our seniors, but little would they know, we were instead living in our own world, where no one could rouse us from our sleep-

Shuddering at the thought, I bury my selfishness away. The realisation that I just conceived such an idea leaves a sour taste on my tongue. I know well enough Popo could never agree to such a nightmare. I wouldn't if I were him either. He's too selfless for that; he has a heart.

"It might be better than our current plan-" -at this, my head swiftly turns towards Popo, eager at his agreement- "-if it works perfectly. With no obstacles, whatsoever. Anything could end us, after all."

Perfection. I hate the word. It's what Popo's always striven for, even when we were little. I suppose it can't be helped considering the household he was raised in, right? His mother was one of the kindest women I've ever known, but she was conservative, everyone knew that well enough while she was still here. She admired and praised tradition. I wonder how much she talked about chiefdom to her son; probably enough for him to chatter about it himself all the time. Heck, even this whole journey is for the sake of him preparing to be a good chief, chief this, chief that, chief everything. I want to vomit.

I resist the urge to voice my irritation, instead pursing my lips and clarifying, "I suggested that idea because I want it to be _fun_ , Popo. Not perfect."

He's obviously getting increasing annoyed with me, too, because he retorts, "This isn't about _fun_ , Nana. We're doing this because it's our duty to the village."

 _We led it back to them, after all._ Those unspoken words still screech through his clenched teeth, an undead whisper. They poison the air so it reeks of hurt, like the painful jab in my stomach.

"I'm not saying it isn't, okay? I just want us to-"

"To what?" he interjects. Is this why I was nervous to suggest this to my partner? A flame that usually flickers faintly, a spark barely visible in the deepness of his orbs, vulnerable to the demon of temper as we all are, has aroused that flame into a forest fire-

That's an exaggeration. He isn't as angry as he was last time, but it still sends chills down my spine. I have the luck of witnessing Popo's rages in the rare event that they do occur as his closest friend, a privilege and curse wrapped in one giftbox.

I pause, still unsure if I should pursue the matter further. Our eyes are locked with determination, each of our own's meshed into one force secured by our silence. Then my earlier vanity haunts me again, providing me the key that fits this lock. So I finish my sentence.

"I want us to cherish the time we have together like this. In case...in case something like, like what you said happens."

I wait for the avalanche to fall, wait for his barely creased calmness to contort into fury. The snow never collapses. It floats daintily, instead. Popo's face displays shock very briefly, then concern, then...sadness?

Without me expecting it, he takes my ungloved hand into his own, softly this time- what? I'm so taken aback by this weird affection I only barely notice the blood flowing into my cheeks as they redden. Despite my awkward predicament, I force myself to face Popo, who's still looking at me with worry.

"What's that supposed to mean? Now you really do sound morbid." The question isn't asked as irritably as the previous one, a somewhat comforting gesture I briefly take note of.

I laugh nervously. "I think it's worth a try, Popo. But if anything happens, I'll be the one to fall for you." That remark only stuns him more, but before he can argue anything in return, I add, "Besides, lead climbers are supposed to be able to survive on their own. I'm sure you can-"

"You're wrong." Now he's shaking his head vigorously, like it'll make my words dissipate into the air.

"What? Hey-"

Popo pulls me towards him all of a sudden, he's tightly hugging me, holding me against his chest, his breathing heavy with apprehension as he realises what he's doing, but he carries on nevertheless. It perplexes me even further than earlier, everything happening around me like a blizzard, a whirlwind caging me and clouding me from any understanding I could have of the situation around me. I feel as if Popo will suspect even more of me if I don't respond, so I battle my trembles and return his embrace, nervously at first, but I feel my fondness sink deeper into our connection as we hug for longer.

"If climbers can survive on their own in the first place, then why do we get paired up with others?" he asks me quietly.

I give a little shrug, restricted by the tension of our embrace. "Support. Back-up. It's safer, but it's not necessary."

"You were right on the first thing you said."

"What?"

"Support."

I wish he'd stop being so mysterious and just tell me what he wants to say. Yet, as I think it over, I realise his mystery is what I adore much about my friend. I decide to let him carry on being a fascinating mystery, so I wait for him to speak again.

"I need you here for me as much as you need me here for you. Or, at least, I'd hope so," Popo chuckles. "For starters, there's sections of the glaciers we've scaled that I couldn't have accomplished alone. I'd be dead by now without you."

"I'd be bawling like a baby isolated in those caves without you to constantly ramble in my ears every hour of the day. Every day, I'd have let regret fill me to the brim and I wouldn't have cared if it spilled out. Because you wouldn't have been there to tell me."

"I wouldn't have known anything about this place, either. I wouldn't be as careful as you warned me to be when we arrived. I wouldn't notice the suspicions, the glares. You've been like a shield to me, so...let me be one for you too. A guy needs pride somewhere."

"Besides, newbies are meant to stick together." He's quoting me in that last sentence, except he isn't. He's twisting my despair into light.

At the same time, his touching speech, an anthem delivered straight from his heart, has me paralysed, unable to speak or move to reply. My lips won't form the words I want to return in exchange for what he's given me; Popo's always traded in reason. But my hands can't move to find the right payment.

 _I well I sort of well I don't know how to explain um I don't like I l-_

My mind is plagued by a traffic of words, too many for me to handle or think about. There's no way I can tell him anything.

With as much reassurance as I can muster, I tighten my grip around Popo's body, a gentle squeeze. If I'm not careful, I'm going to cry, or scream, I don't know, but it's all going to fall down if I speak. I should learn to keep my mouth shut at times, Papa said once, when I was being a naughty little girl. Harsh words that I can now thank. But does he understand what I'm trying to say now, even though I'm silent?

"If we go, we're going together. Everywhere and anywhere, Nana."

I want to believe that he does.


	8. questions

_And with those very whispers that had entered his ears, he became the safe keeper of their truths._

" _...You won't tell anyone, right?" she asks apprehensively._

 _He grins back. "You know I wouldn't do that, dummy!"_

" _You trust me, right?"_

 _"Yes," she replies without hesitation._

" _You're my best friend, after all."_

* * *

We return to our strenuous trek, one that can only grow even more so.

The odious beauty of Hachigo shrinks further back into the surrounding snow as we flee its leering gaze, trudging once again, but not drowning in the treacherous seas any longer. We are safe, and a wave of relief splashes over me instead.

Nana, on the other hand, has a lost air about her. It's like she's possessed by a ghost. A very confused ghost, it seems.

In truth, she hasn't said anything to me since the morning, sans her monosyllabic responses to any inquiries I made towards her. It isn't often that Nana zones out so...easily – sure, she's easily distracted. A lot. But her frequent daydreams are nagging at my own thoughts, prodding my conscience with every step I take alongside her. Every _crunch_ in the snow reanimates the events of our morning in my head: how quiet she was. How selfless she was. How awed she was.

How different she was.

I don't doubt that she has any affection towards me. You see, her selfishness is not the inconsiderate kind, the type found in most of the similar character. When is selfishness ever _not_ inconsiderate, one may ask? It's difficult to explain. Her vanity I know is usually unintentional, accidental, often a backfire from her intended acts of altruism. Nana has no modesty, yet she has no great ego in place of its gaping hole.

It is also difficult to understand. How she sees herself as a brave heroine, how willing she is to take on such a risky mission as our own, how she inspects any flaw she can find in herself, major or minor, and how she tells me she's an awful person. Does she see her self-love as lies she bribes herself with to force herself to carry on, only to unnecessarily punish herself with self-deprecation? Why?

When she cries, she cries of things that she wants. That she thinks she needs. She. I remember her tears when we were told we could no longer stay over at one another's homes – not the nights, anyway – how she bawled over the affair. I remember her father scolding her, then asking her why she was behaving the way she was. She could only answer, "I just want to stay with him," over and over.

As for myself, I hadn't reacted in such a manner. I knew exactly why we were now forbidden from such interactions; surely she must have, too? You've always been more mature than that noisy girlfriend of yours, my mother tittered. I hadn't even bothered to correct her, having been too overwhelmed by Nana's dramatic tantrum.

Perhaps that is a suitable example of her "selfishness". Desire is selfish, but it is not. It's surely possible to want things in the stead of others, is it not? For the sake of others, you can want the best for them, right? Is that selfish?

The journey to the foot of Icicle Mountain is further than the nearest mountain after Hachigo, naturally. It's been about a month since we last left Yukino with our first haul of food. The first mountain had been pure luck, getting that much food in the first climb. But we'd established that the portion of the rescued harvest would only last up to a month if the village were to share it out, and considering our population…

We have to hurry.

"Tired yet?" I ask my pink-clad companion. She shakes her head. I glance up at the faintly clouded sky before observing the shadow on my sundial. It's still the early hours of the morning, at least, the time when others are also awake. It's been an hour or two since we departed from Hachigo, so it's probably the right time for a rest.

I gesture towards a small patch of flora accompanied by some conveniently placed rocks. "Let's stop here. I'm a bit worn out."

Setting my pack beside the stone I seat myself upon, I move to beckon Nana to the rock adjacent to my own, but stop myself when I notice her gravitate towards the one directly opposite me. We remain silent.

Several times, my lips start to move in attempts to form threads of words I want to convey to her. Yet, the moment I conceive the sentences in my mind ("Was I weird this morning?" "What's on your mind?" "Did I scare you earlier?" "Do you-") an icicle seems to plummet down onto me, obstructing my path and preventing me from my own desires. Several times, she notices, and several times, Nana's eyes light up like stars glowing as if she wants to hear what I want to say. But I can't bring myself to say anything. And then her eyes only dim again, returning to the interstellar dream she's engrossed herself in. Her enthusiasm – the only other emotion she's exhibited this whole trek – is the very thing that's pushing me away. Why is her vague joy beaming me away from her?

"You're so silent."

My head shoots up. In uttering my silence, she shatters our own. She demolishes the glass wall built between us by our noiselessness by speaking, and my odd shyness along with it.

I grin back weakly. "Do you like hearing my voice that much?"

"I think it sounds beautiful."

Blood rushes to my cheeks as her statement, like some simple song echoing, escapes into the air, meeting my unsuspecting ears. 'Beautiful' – the word she chose to use. Especially for me? If only. Nana finds a lot of things beautiful. Such is her honeyed outlook on life.

I chuckle nervously, trying not to stumble over the bumps in my tongue's path. "Don't you think that's, um, a bit of an over-exaggeration?"

"Don't you think you underestimate yourself too much?" she replies, as if unsurprised by my own response. "I won't repeat myself."

My brain, unable to conjure up a suitable reply, stuns me into silence. I can only stare back at Nana in amazement, an odd warm but surprising sensation snowing over me. Her reciprocal quietness doesn't make the situation any less...awkward, though. So we just gaze at one another for a little while.

Maybe I'm supposed to start describing everything I can notice about her at this moment as I take in her appearance, but there isn't anything more I can say that I haven't already noticed about her in our long time together. She's still Nana, still the quirky and outgoing girl I met years ago in our childhood days, still with the same inquisitive lilac eyes that so curiously admire the world around her, still with a hop and skip in her every step. These things I've all taken in before. They're the special features maybe only I bother to remember.

Ah. I just contradicted myself.

Finally, she cuts through the silence with a small chuckle, and with that, she's back to her usual self once more. It's quite startling, considering her own prior silence, but maybe she's woken up from whatever dream she was stuck in earlier.

"Oh, well, it's not that deep. You know I love you anyway."

"Yeah, I love you too," I casually reply.

Nana's head jerks up for just a second, eyes widened with surprise – and only then do I realise what I just said. Oh, no, no, no-

"Uh, as a friend, obviously!" Just a friend, yes, yes, yes. And I thought I'd drilled that into my head a long time ago.

"Yeah, I know," she laughs, seeming to play it off. Her wide smile is plastered all over her face again.

It isn't as if it's uncommon for Nana to say that kind of sweet thing to me. She said it all the time when we were little, so I guess the habit's just stuck with her, right? Yeah. I just felt the obligation to return it. It isn't like I _don't_ love her anyway. I do, but if I declare in front of the world's leering gaze, they'll tell me it's more than it actually is.

"Love" is such a weird word. It means a lot of things at once, yet what it means depends on who, what, _why_ , how...so many possibilities, huh. It's a puzzle of my own I've tried to solve for an incredibly long time; for years, I've been missing the final pieces. A mountain of my own that I don't think I can scale myself. When you tell someone you love them, what do you mean? What kind of love is it? What of it when you anticipate their response? Why is it such a scary thing? Love hurts, but it comforts too. Is it some kind of two-faced demon that possesses us all?

"I think we've had enough of a break," Nana points out, observing the faint sun's position in the sky. "We should be able to get to Icicle Mountain before nightfall if we leave now."

I blink for a moment, bringing myself back out from the depths of my thoughts. "Uh, yeah."

"Let's go."

So we set off once again, as the same friends we were before. Nothing more and nothing less.


	9. teach me how

**Slowly but surely getting to the climax of the whole story - that is, when Popo and Nana finally reach the top of the mountain and defeat the condor! But there'll be more after that with my own twist on things, naturally. Trying to work at building emotions and development up here, too. I really like writing this; it's definitely going to be a story I actually finish with multiple chapters, which'll be a first for anything I've ever posted on here.**

 **Anyway, enough rambling. Enjoy!**

* * *

" _How are you so good at_ everything _you do?" the girl pouts at her companion._

" _I'm not, though," he replies, frowning a little. "You make it sound like I'm perfect when I'm not."_

 _She sighs, but smiles back._

" _You're perfect enough."_

* * *

We finally reach the foot of Icicle Mountain after hours of travelling.

The infamous summit isn't within the vicinity of any civilisations or tribes; it resides in the very heart of our vast region, poised triumphantly over our many populations. The surrounding baby peaks are like its minions, guarding its throne, those fangs acting like its very own fortress. But we've managed to plough through the wall of fangs together, and here we are, at the bottom of this notorious peak.

They say many have tried and failed to conquer this mountain. That's what puts off most explorers from approaching it, oddly enough: they're far too attached to the weak thread of life that they've been hung by to risk snapping it. The budding and daring before them who took on the challenge of Icicle Mountain – cliché as it may sound – were never recorded to have returned.

The sun is veiled once again by a flurry of clouds overhead, grey and foreboding as they should be around this dastardly peak. It's about noon, I think, and neither of us knows how long we'll be up this mountain for, how long we'll be trapped within its chilling mist amongst the frostbitten boulders and stones. Imprisoned forever…? Together might be nice, but for _them_ back home – yes, the thought of them back home is the only thing keeping me from running away from it all. I'm here for them, not only for us.

"I have an idea," I blurt out, my intended words of comfort wobbling and shaking. Popo's gaze curiously turns to me. I laugh nervously before I continue.

"This mountain's pretty tough, yeah? We...we might die."

For a moment, his eyes darken as he grunts in affirmation. Not with bitterness or distastefulness, though. With the shivers and quiet of fear.

"What's your idea?" he asks.

I suck in a breath before I answer. This is another step I'm taking to reach the peak of the mountain I'm about to climb.

"Hold my hand when you're scared, and I'll do the same with you. Just to make this a bit better."

Popo blinks, briefly startled by my response and the random idea itself. "But we always hold each other when we're climbing, more or less," he replies.

"Exactly." I smile widely at him, sending out a message of acknowledgement. He doesn't show it, that apprehension, but he can't deceive me, not after all this time. No matter how good he is at lying to everyone else.

He can only blink again, stunned by the words coming out of my mouth, but he nods after a moment, returning my smile and taking my hand into his, our mallets clutched in each of our own other hands. It's enough to warm my cheeks just a little, to keep me warm and cosy enough for the arduous journey ahead of us.

"Ready?"

"As you are."

And so, we set off.

The heights of the mountain are surrounded by the dark blanket of the night shortly after we begin to ascend it; of course, we haven't progressed much upwards, perhaps only a few hundred metres, but it's enough for the first day. The end of our journey is so close, yet so far, and I can only hope that it doesn't descend to meet us earlier.

We only stop when we can find a cavern on one of the layers of the mountain we're on, and after evicting any nearby Topis (politely) within our vicinity, we set ourselves down in the hollow, taking a few breaths.

"We've got a long ways to go," I sigh loudly. "And here I was hoping we could get just about halfway up today."

Just as fatigued as I am, Popo mumbles, "We got here too late for that. We're not even a quarter of the way up."

"Well, we're better off having trekked a bit of it rather than none of it." I weakly grin, trying to keep the lantern alight for us both. Glancing towards the dim light between us both, it's only then I realise I'm still holding on to something. Something quite hard to let go of.

"What is it?" I raise my eyebrows.

No reply. His expression remains hidden within the depths of his thick hood. I squeeze his hand a little, offering my comfort, but his silence compels him, still.

"You're still holding my hand," I say, stating the obvious.

"I know."

Popo resents it, this human weakness he too has been endowed with, as we all naturally are; even he cannot escape the concrete clutch of fear and dread. This natural fear has muted him, its hand clasped over his mouth, so that he may not speak out or protest against it. His attempts are futile, and he doesn't speak.

"It's okay, I'm terrified too. I kind of regret suggesting this," I laugh nervously.

He soundlessly shakes his head. Attempt three hasn't worked. I guess it's time for attempt four: the silent treatment.

The lights aren't out today; the screen of mist and fog is too opaque, combined with the blackness of the night. Today, the aurora lanterns aren't here to dazzle us with their luminous glow. They've left us alone for now.

Yet, the soft gusts of wind juxtapose the ominous thickness of the fog, barely affecting any of our surroundings. The near-silence is bliss, with the pace of each of our faint pulses soothing us with a little regularity and consistency. Like a beat that keeps us climbing on, further and further, endlessly. Eventually, I'll be able to break the ice.

I notice a brief tension tightening around my hand. I try to look at my friend in the eyes again, trying to find the source of his deep blues, but with each glance I make, he darts his gaze away, evading my own prying eyes. Slightly frustrated, I change my soft stare into a stubborn one, obstinate and cold. It's okay, as long as it gets something out of him, even just a single word.

"I'm really scared, Nana."

He finally meets my line of sight.

I smile. "Same here. I-"

"I'm not talking about the mountain," he interrupts somewhat irritably. "even if it is terrifying. It's not that bad." And then he squeezes my hand again. It's basically impossible at this point for me to let go, nor could I possibly find it in me to do so.

I inhale a deep breath, shivering a little from the chilliness around us.

"Then what?"

Popo seems to jolt at the prospect of revealing what troubles him so, almost stunned by my inquiry. He starts, words forming upon his mouth, only for them to dissolve. Lips wobbling, scattered "um"s and "uh"s tumbling out.

"...you..."

The word finally escapes into the wild. My heart sinks. But he doesn't let go, and I'm as lost for words as he is.

I feel like I'm falling into an abyss.

"I...I don't want..."

Please, stop telling me. I don't want to hear it. I don't want the truth. Can't you let me pretend a little bit more?

Those invasive thoughts pierce through my chest, stabbing and thrusting themselves through my weak body. They send waterfalls, rushing out of my eyes. Stop it, silly girl. Stop it, stupid. Idiot. I can't escape, he's still holding on to me, and he won't let go, won't leave it.

"Don't go."

What?

"I can't lose you, I, I can't- I don't-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" I blubber, not even bothering to hide the fact I'm bawling my eyes out.

Hurry up and tell me!

"I'm scared to lose you, or that you'll go, or that you'll let go, or that _I'll_ let go, and I don't mean to, Nana, honestly, please listen, I don't want-"

Without thinking, I do it.

I shut his mouth with my own palm, muffling any further things he has to say. Just for a little while, he keeps blabbering, panicked and hasty, but refrains when he (finally) acknowledges my tears. I can't help but whimper and sniff, despite my futile efforts of resistance. It just doesn't work.

"Slow down." It comes out shaky, but it comes out.

I observe Popo carefully, till I'm sure he won't burst into a fit again, and gently remove my hand from his face. He can only stare back, stupefied, stunned, shocked. But at what?

Then he looks down. "I didn't mean to make you cry. Sorry."

I shake my head. "It's- it's nothing." When he doesn't immediately respond, I add, "Seriously, I'm fine, I'm fine."

For the moment, we're both silent once again, save my occasional sniffles and shudders. The cold seems to rise, clutching to us more tensely. I watch puffs of icy mist leave my lips with every exhale, fluffy, warm mist. I shiver.

"Don't leave me," Popo pleads. "Don't go." His own blue orbs look as if they're about to well up too, teardrops sparkling at the edges of his eyes. But he breathes in deeply, fighting them back, and meets my gaze again.

Where's my smile when I need it? "I...I'm not gonna go anywhere, dummy." I try to choke out a chuckle, only for it to sound more like a dying Nitpicker's cry. "Trust me on that."

"But you said you'd fall for me," he argues. "I don't want you to have to make that sacrifice. You shouldn't have to."

I hesitate, unsure if I want to hear what he'll say next when I already know. "I- I know you think that, but...but, you gotta accept in the worst-case scenario, it _might_ be necessary-"

" _No!_ " At that very point, his grasp on my hand is so tense, so desperate and tight – I feel like my bones might crush beneath it. So tightly is he holding onto me, refusing to let go at all.

I can only cry out in distress in response. At this, he still doesn't release my hand but loosens his grip enough for it to stop hurting. I breathe out a relieved sigh, opening my eyes to meet his again. At this point, I can't even tell what he's thinking or feeling; his expression is some twisted combination of sorrow, terror, something else – not many things I can put my finger on. But his reserved placidity has long been shattered.

So I have to put his pieces back together.

He asks me a question.

"What do I do, Nana?"

It's impossible not to flinch at the despair and hopelessness embedded within those five words. Yet, what words am I meant to use to counteract their blues? What good can my rose shades and violet flowers offer in exchange for their sorrow?

I don't know.

"...What do you mean?"

He waits to reply for a moment, sunken in thought. "I've no idea how," he finally says. "How can I become..."

"...good enough?"

The frustration I bade earlier seems to wash over me once again, grabbing me almost as tightly as Popo just did. Then I remember the words he spoke to me once before when I'd fallen into the same pit he now finds himself in. The guilt I felt in belittling and berating him only a while ago atop one of many snow-capped mountains; even now, it sits in the back of my mind, taunting and haunting my memory. I don't know. I don't know if he feels exactly the same way I especially did back then – no, he can't, not really, since we're all different. Our emotions are unique to each and every one of us. That's what I learned from our last conflict, and I'm not going to try and spark another flame again. I can't.

"But, Popo. You already are."

To that, he doesn't reply, aiming his gaze back at the cave floor once again. He looks ashamed.

"You're- you're one of my closest friends, and for good reason, too. You know that, right? We wouldn't be where we are now if you weren't...um, "good enough", as you've phrased it. I don't know what your idea of a "good enough" person is, but for me, it's someone like you." For sure, I add as an afterthought, privately.

Popo scoffs, somewhat bitterly. "Someone who doesn't have the strength to properly protect you? Someone who doesn't have the courage to lead a village?"

"That's not true," I rebut. "Stop lying."

Then he opens his mouth as if to argue back, triggering the dread inside me yet again, but quickly closes it. So he knows too.

"Sorry. We've been over this already."

I grunt in affirmation, unable to hide the spike of annoyance in my voice. It isn't like I'm not already used to Popo's insecurities about himself. But it's hard for me too; almost as if I'm throwing all my love and affection and words at a wall instead of a person. When that happens, it makes me ask the same question he asked me to myself. Yes...that's how I felt those few days ago.

Then he continues. "I appreciate it, though. Really."

"Well, how do you think I feel? I wish I could give you a good answer too." It almost comes off like a snap, but I manage to restrain myself. I really shouldn't be feeling this way, should I?

Popo shakes his head again. "I don't mind if you don't have an answer. If I want one, I'll make it obvious." He pauses. "I...I know I did ask you a question, but, um- well, I suppose it was somewhat rhetorical. I was thinking out loud and I, well. I ended up laying it all off on you. I'm sorry."

Asking a question without expecting an answer? Mysterious as ever, it seems. Even after seven years of our friendship, I still can't get my head around the labyrinth that is the brain of Popo. How he thinks, why he thinks so, how he feels – he's like a book written in an alien language, sometimes. I wish I was fluent. The bare silence between us for the moment doesn't lessen that desire by a bit.

"How _can_ I help you if I don't have the right answer, then? I don't get it. I want to help you and make you feel happy, you know. You're my friend."

The surrounding sound is empty, a cacophony of naked nothingness blaring out even louder. It's deafening. I can't hear. So, tell me once more, Popo.

"You listen. And that's enough."


	10. take flight

**Long time no see again, oops. I'm not particularly good at writing action, so I put this off for a bit, but then I finally got around to deciding what I wanted to happen in this chapter :D Hopefully I built the tension up well in this. In case you couldn't tell, I haven't properly planned this story out or anything (which is what seems to be making it work for me, frankly). I'm only going off the rough ideas I have in my head...that is, the start, climax and finale of this story. What's keeping me going is the closer we get to Icicle Mountain's peak, the closer we get to the climax, which I just can't wait to write! But first, filler and action chapters. And character development and relationship build-up and such. I want the growth of this all to be nice and gradual. Hopefully, those of you still reading are willing to watch things grow in this story too. Enjoy reading!**

 **(10th chapter, eh? I don't think I've ever gotten this far with a fic. Hooray!)**

* * *

" _Help! Help!" the girl wails, clearly panicked._

 _Her father turns to her, concerned."What's wrong? Did something happen? Where's-"_

" _I don't know where he's gone! I haven't found him after ages!"_

* * *

" _You listen. And that's enough."_

They echo endlessly in my head, those five words that I said to my companion a night or two ago. Words I delivered straight from my heart.

She hadn't been able to respond immediately, taking some time to compose herself before staring back at me in bewilderment. She didn't seem to be able to process it at first.

She lectures me so much about my own unhealthy desire for perfection when deep down she houses one of her own. She can be pretty blind sometimes. As bad as I feel for saying it, there's a reason I'm the lead climber.

Honestly, I'd kind of blurted it out, not really expecting those to be the words I returned to Nana. I don't really know what I was trying to say to her at that point. It hadn't gone very well either, and I shudder at the thought of our exchange last night. What I'd wanted to deliver calmly and composedly had instead conjured a snowstorm of emotions that tumbled out of my mouth all at once, stabbing both of us along their descent in ways I'd never intended. I'd never wanted to hurt Nana.

"I was just jumping to conclusions too quickly," she'd laughed nervously when I tried to properly repent for my foolish words. "I misunderstood you."

"I just want you to know I'm not upset with you or anything. If I said anything that sounded like that, it's- it's not what I meant," I replied.

But she just nodded casually in return, reiterating her point. "I know that now, so it's okay, silly. It's not that deep."

Is it shallow either, though?

We've resumed our journey up Icicle Mountain, progressing at what I feel is a slug's speed. The summit is still so far away, still dithering away from our grasp. But I know we can't let that thought damage our morale or slow us any further. Time is ticking, and stomachs at home will be grumbling.

Any energy that I might have had for today seems to have been drained from last night, even though I managed to get to sleep. Like my morale's been sucked out of me or something. It isn't that I have no motivation, I just...feel tired. Fatigued and confused. The antics of Nitpickers and Topis aren't making the situation any better, and it's a bother enough to have to hold Nana back from pounding the poor things more than once, as much as she desires to crush them to pulps. Her recklessness is going to be the death of us, if anything.

She'll be the death of me.

The ice beneath my foot starts to crack the moment I leap onto its ridge. I hear its trembling crescendo with my panic- no, I can't be like this. Move faster. My life isn't the only one bound to these ropes. It's this kind of pressure, the kind of fast thinking you have to have built up if you want to survive. I manage to evade the fall of the ice swiftly enough to stab my ice axe into the wall, hanging on for dear life. Only then do I allow myself to exhale.

"Popo? Are you okay?" Nana calls out to me from beneath, not too far away. She chuckles nervously. "That was a close one."

The sound of her voice washes relief over me. "Yeah, I'm alright," I holler back. "We should probably- oh, seriously?"

I narrowly miss (yet another) Nitpicker's bite, managing to duck in time before it can decapitate me. Its screeches pierce through my ears as it starts to back away from where Nana and I are rooted in the mountain wall, preparing to attack again. If we stay put, it won't miss.

Instinct prompts me to continue my climb up the ice, only significantly faster than before – we leap from ledge to ledge, hacking into the frigid solid with the knives embedded underneath our boots. The rope binding us from waist to waist lashes about with our jumps like a whip, cracking and smashing against the ice. Every slash breaks the ice a little more. But it doesn't break our hope of success – success in overcoming one out of many more ice walls to come, success in survival, success in union. Motivation has returned to us once more.

" _Screeeeeee!"_ Its shriek echoes across the mountains, a cacophony of its imaginary friends joining in. It's snapping, clawing at the ice we're on now, scratching at the slippery surface with its claws in the hopes of halting our climb, slicing the thin strings that weave our belay rope together. It yearns to cut our journey short. Agh, but that piercing cry is the only thing ringing throughout my ears, bouncing back and forth between them endlessly, so irritably-

"Begone, wretched creature!"

My head whips around at the sound of my partner's voice. Nana's shouts now compete with those of the Nitpicker's. Yet she continues to follow after my steps, perfectly as if she were in my own boots – if you don't count the multitasking.

"What are you-"

"I'm fighting it off, dammit! Just keep going before we become this thing's dinner!"

This she yells back at me axe clutched in one hand; the other aggressively fires flurries of frost and ice in waves against the beast, attempting to chill it with every shot inflicted. Her mallet precariously hangs off her back where it's strapped around her body, similarly to my own, but as helpful as it probably would be for us to simply pummel it with the thing...our position makes for some _slight_ impracticalities. It's fortunate that the next flatland is within reach, and it's what pushes me to continue climbing whilst Nana furiously battles the Nitpicker. We climb and climb and fight and fight, stepping and hopping and ascending.

Before I know it, the Nitpicker squawks again, this time with evident pain in its cry. I turn to see an icicle jabbed into its stomach, a knife crafted from Nana's own hand. She continues to scorch the wound, showering her flurries from earlier at its injury as it helplessly wails. Finally, the creature loses its distance from us, weakly floating further beneath us.

It's going to plan until we encounter the final stretch of the wall, smooth and flat. Quite literally so. Its climbable ledges and safe ice are non-existent: any ice we could dig our heels into would only resist the impact. We'd face the counter-attack of collapse as we slipped off away from the mountain and away from the hope we strived for. Then our ropes and strings would slip, too, and we'd lose our bond. That's why now we have to tie the knot with all we now have to make the final leap up and away.

"Climb up closer to me, Nana." I turn back to her, stuck underneath where I'm planted into the ice.

She stares back blankly. "Wh-"

"Just do it, I'll explain in a second!"

Nana wastes no time in bothering to question any further before she hops up next to me, pausing her attacks on the creature as she turns her gaze towards me. I open my mouth to tell her my plan – not without a little hesitation as to what she may think of me afterwards – looking her back in the eye. Though, if I know her as well as I'm sure I do, she won't be too opposed to my idea. I take a sharp breath in.

"I'm going to toss you up, but you have to jump too or you won't get up high enough."

"...what?"

Frankly, I don't have much of an idea of how it's going to work either.

I'm working based on the limited knowledge I have of advanced climbing techniques, the ones we don't learn until we reach adulthood; the ones that are the riskiest, the most dangerous. They call it a belay, from what I've caught of the older climbing students' conversations – tensing up the rope between you and your partner to prevent an otherwise deathly fall. What I have in mind is slightly different, and I'm not one to take risks so easily. But I'd rather make an attempt at survival than give in to a grisly demise at the hands of the pathetically-named Nitpicker. A deceiving name for such a monster.

But even Nana eyes me with suspicion, eyebrow raised in confusion. "Explain how that's going to work, Mr Smart."

I sigh. Unfortunately, our current position isn't going to make this any easier. With caution, I sidle towards my partner, edging along the ice awkwardly. As I reach a comfortable closeness to her body, with my feet rooted into the last remnants of safe ice, I start to move to put my arms around- wait, maybe I should…

"Uh, is it okay if I- you know, uh..."

There's a short silence between us until Nana snaps out of her little daze. A faint flush of red crosses her cheeks before she replies, "Oh, yeah, go ahead. It's fine." I can't stop myself from hesitating before I fully wrap my arms around her, a gesture I'm all too familiar with. It doesn't make it any less awkward. Or nerving, for that matter, as the cries of the Nitpicker start to crescendo again, approaching the pair of us.

I alter my grasp on her a little for ease, making sure she's comfortable. "I'm going to throw you as high as I can, okay?"

Her puzzled expression from earlier hasn't vanished. "What about you?"

"The rope will lift me up if I use enough force and strength," I reassure, tapping on our roped belts and hooks connecting us. "I should be able to land up there and pull you up."

She doesn't reply immediately. Her bemused face, I notice, has changed into one with more concern. Apprehension might be the right word for it. I probably sound like I'm stating the obvious, but deciphering Nana's feelings isn't too foreign to me at this point.

I lean us both into the vague indents of the wall, making more room for us to interact. Only then can I properly observe her: she returns my gaze, but her eyes are lower than usual, she seems smaller than usual. Perhaps words won't be my best remedy for this. Not like usual.

We make eye contact at last (after I stare at Nana long enough for her to notice). It's just a gaze we're exchanging, the kinds of looks we can trade as written letters without really writing. We're both silent.

I read her letter. Her eyes write of uncertainty and confusion, her brows detailing her apprehension. Or rather, apprehension is an understatement. Eyelids lowered, somewhat unmotivated, though their energy hasn't dissipated into the air. She's a little hopeful. But her posture and stance speak of inferiority and weakness, the feelings of them, even, rather than the being. Her lips are pursed, shut and tightened, as she ponders over how to reply.

In response, I smile. It's small, but I shorten the distance between us a little bit more, so I can get a closer look at her. I smile.

Nana waits for a little, though the tension in her body loosens. Then, she grins back lightly, nodding.

"On the count of three, okay?" I say.

She snickers a little, her face brightened up again. "Yes, Captain."

We both take deep breaths in. My grip around my partner tenses as I prepare to launch her up.

"One."

Nana shuts her eyes.

"Two."

I bend down.

"Three."

She soars up as if she actually were flying, majestic, astounding, phenomenal. In the air, she raises her arm, ice dagger in hand. It plummets into the hard ice, and I can almost hear the branches of cracks stemming from her strike, empowered by nothing but her stubborn will and brute force. Though I've never been one to underestimate Nana's strength, the scene unravelling before me is undoubtedly bewildering. I've never seen such beauty in all the climbing we've done together, not until a move like this one.

In the nick of time, I'm yanked up by Nana's movements – even higher than she had been! It's difficult not to yell as I helplessly look over the deathly drop just to the side of where Nana now stands. It's also hard to not appreciate the view I've now gained of almost the whole of our region, surrounding peaks the size of baby icicles in comparison to Icicle Mountain; the snow capping them like sprinkled stardust, and-

the depths of a cavern mouth, opening their way unto me.


	11. incohesion

**I actually updated, woo!**

* * *

 _She reaches out to grasp his hand in her own, but he recoils._

" _What is it?" she asks, taken aback._

" _...Maybe we shouldn't any more," he replies._

 _The girl frowns. "Why?" she asks again._

 _His eyes dart around the room, nervous and unsure._

" _I- I dunno, it's just weird for us to."_

" _But we're friends," she protests._

" _Right?"_

* * *

Time seems to slow.

I can only gape at the scene presented before me, almost at a standstill.

Popo, my partner, my companion, my best friend, mid-leap as a result of our belay in the air. Only seconds ago, I saw his gentle grin reflecting my own as I was about to celebrate his plan's success. We escaped, I thought. We're safe, I thought. We're together again, I thought.

Now I've lost him. The aerial beast, swooping in, wings extravagantly spread out like it's some kind of show put on for an audience. A brag party, boasting its victory over us, right? Another point to the Nitpicker for cutting yet another pair of climbers' journey short up the infamous Icicle Mountain. Not just our physical journey, but the journey I've travelled with my friend.

That's about to come to an end.

I feel numb. I don't know what the look on my face is at the moment. I don't know what's happening, just like last time. I'm frozen. Rooted. Helpless.

I scream his name with the energy I might have gained from our short-lived victory before it left my body. Is it louder than that monster's screeches, I wonder? Probably not. I'm puny compared to that man-eating beast. A mouse to a wolf. But maybe I can give some hope in that scream. My voice, being the last voice Popo's to hear. It hurts, but...I want to be that person for him.

But what person, exactly?

" _No one's seen him at his darkest except her. She's like a sister to him, you know."_

" _You can't get any closer than she is. There's his acquaintances, his friends, his family, then it's her."_

Things like those I'm all too familiar with hearing, whenever Popo and I amble through the village hand in hand. Actually, minus the last part. We don't hold hands in front of anyone except each other. But even without that, people can still tell that we're _pretty_ close for most friendship standards.

Even still, there's something I question myself about all the time that I find myself oddly too nervous to ask my partner in crime. It's always hiding in the back of my mind, prodding and poking my conscience whenever we're together.

It's confusion, ambiguity and haziness all blended together.

More than friends, that's what we are, for sure. But what does it mean? What's "more than a friend"? In what way am I more?

I couldn't ever ask Popo that, of course. It'd be super awkward. It's always awkward whenever the topic of our relationship's brought up.

" _They know we're just friends, Nana. They're just teasing."_

To put it simply, it's not really something he's willing to discuss most of the time. The feeling's mutual, because I know what kind of questions it'd bring up and- _ugh_. It'd probably end in another one of my angry rants about people's misconceptions about us. One of those filler things that I decided to slot into the programme at the end because I don't know what else I _could_ say on the matter.

" _Hey...you don't_ like _-like me, though, right?"_

Never again.

I won't get any answers after this if I let the ice shatter now.

In one leap, I take to the air again, entering the Nitpicker's domain and entering the battle, with nothing but a mallet to hand. But I'm pretty confident the mallet I've been using to stun Topis and other Nitpickers alike is more than enough for this particularly stubborn beast.

"Take _this_ , dimwit!"

With a swift swing, the mallet's head pounds into that of the Nitpicker's (hard enough to dent its skull, bet). Its shriek and the sound of its bones shattering are almost in sync with the impact from my weapon, a deadly killing tool I feel like I've only just discovered.

I manage to pull Popo away from death's door, the edge where he could have tumbled and fallen. I pull him away from the path leading to demise. Just as I stun the Nitpicker and it plummets down the mountain, our hands barely grasp one another's, and-

-we fall, down, down, down, down…

down onto our destination, the blessed flatland we'd leapt so high for at the start. It's heaven.

Collapsing, tumbling, crashing and falling down.

"Ouch..."

My entire body feels stunned, paralysed, trapped by the force from our collision with the surface. It's as if I've been struck by lightning. I'm hurting everywhere, inside and out, endless pain on every inch of body only stabbing and crawling further up my skin. I shiver.

On top of that, there's a heavy weight set upon me, so much it feels like I actually will melt into the ground and join its flesh. I can't see because of what's on top of me, but- it's warm.

In my mind, I start reopening lovingly boxed away treasures, unforgettable memories. That's what this moment feels like, oddly enough: nostalgia. Homesickness and reminiscence, my life's flashing before my eyes, replaying everything.

But before I can engross myself in this momentary comfort, Popo comes to. Then he realises what position we're in, face bursting into fits of red blush – eyes wider than the vastness of the mountain range. Embarrassment, the one emotion his mask of composure fails to conceal.

I bite my lip, uncertain of what to say.

"...Are you hurt?" Popo asks, shattering the silence. A chilling breeze passes by, strumming his bangs in its wake. Yet he concentrates on me.

I shuffle into a slightly more bearable position, sitting up and straightening my posture.

"I'm fine." A pause. "That was pretty intense, huh?" I chuckle, stretching a grin across my face as I start to lean back into the snow. I focus on its blankness and emptiness that sparkles across its surface, looking away.

In the corners of my eyes, Popo shakes his head. His eyes squint as if they're trying to hold back a waterfall, but he doesn't cry – if anything, he seems almost frustrated, his teeth clenched as he quietly claws at the ground. I don't think he wants to cry any more than he already has to add to the abundance of tears in the last few days.

"Maybe we should hold off doing that until we've practised it a bit more," he finally replies.

"Oh, for sure." I lace my affirmation with more laughter to lighten the mood. "We've got a looooong way to go." But it's not just that.

Both of us know very well an advanced technique such as the belay is an essential asset we want – _need_ \- alongside our climbing tools to fully scale this mountain. When mastered, the belay can act as a climbing duo's lifesaver, even as a last resort. The slightest error could cost one half of that duo.

Our recent encounter isn't the last that we have upon this mountain. This isn't the last time we'll (attempt to) use the belay. And, most certainly,

this isn't the last time we'll be hanging onto the edge.


	12. reflection

**I'm trying not to leave too many author's notes these days, heh. I feel like it takes away the impact of the story and it doesn't really matter what I've to say. The story is what's important! All I can say is, I'm finally getting closer and closer to writing the climax I've had planned for months lol**

 **I hope you enjoy reading this and maaaybe leave a review too? :0**

* * *

 _"_ _You've travelled an awfully long distance to arrive here," a woman's voice exclaims._

 _She faces a weary-faced man who clutches the small hand of his daughter, both with powdery snow sparkling over their coats._

 _He sighs. "We have nowhere else to go, ma'am,"_

 _The chief's wife observes the pair carefully._

" _Come inside, it's cold out. My husband will get you sorted."_

* * *

For once, it's quiet.

Right now, I'm indulging in the tranquility, something difficult to grasp up here. Gusts of wind pass by from time to time, but they don't howl, they only whistle. Even now, this evening the clouds don't screen us as much from the night sky. They're thin enough that I can count the sparkles speckled across the space world above us.

And beneath all that noise, Nana sleeps beside me, soft breaths escaping her lips in her slumber. A now everyday experience I thought I wasn't going to be able to live again. She gave me this opportunity. She gave me this moment. She gave me the breaths of life I now treasure.

She saved me.

 _Not necessary_ , she said only a few nights ago. Please, you're anything but that. Why don't you understand? I wonder in my head.

My gaze lowers to her head, only a little lower than mine, but enough for her to bury her head into my chest. Admittedly, it was a pretty shocking experience at first, but when you've known someone for just over half your life, I guess you get used to it.

It's strange to think about. How compared to any other person our age, I've known Nana for the shortest amount of time. We weren't joined by the hip from birth or anything; it took seven years for her to walk into my life. And I smile, knowing neither of us regrets that.

* * *

There was a beastly blizzard that winter night, intense enough that you'd have to have been crazy to be outside at all. Even in the village, it had only mellowed out a little bit, though the immensely thick cloud of fog had failed to dissipate. Anyone stood in it might have been mistaken for a ghost.

It was a miracle Nana and her father had even made it to Yukino at all.

Her father had stubbornly pressed onwards, she said. They had stopped travel for enough days that they needed to get to a town again to restock on food, only this time it would be at their destination. That was why they had to reach the village nonetheless. Besides, if anything, her father had his cryokinesis to aid them in the face of danger, though it was naturally nullified against the cold enough weather.

And all the while, whilst they struggled against the elements, I remained in my comfortable hearth, a home that mercifully shielded me from the ravaging demons outside our cabin door. The flame was echoing the warmth of affection, something that regularly fell unto me, its snowflakes seeming to perpetually sparkle along my body wherever I might go. So I, too, innocently loved, knowing it would not be unrequited. Such is the privilege of being the beloved chief's child.

I had barely heard the desperate pounds on our cabin's door, knocks that would open the door to the life I live now. It's a life with even more warmth and affection than I could have dreamed of. A life where I get to feel the snowflakes of her friendship and love fall on me.

"He's in here, sweetheart."

The creak of my bedroom door as it opened startled me. It wasn't even nearly time for bed, especially since I didn't have lessons tomorrow, so I could play just a _little_ more than usual. Perhaps she changed her mind today.

"You two can play together while the adults are talking, alright?" You could almost hear the gentle smile in her voice as she gazed down at a little pink-hooded girl, stood shyly by her side.

Her lilac-purple eyes followed the gesture of the woman towering above her before finally settling onto the curious stare of the boy across the room. It was only a second before she looked away again, shrinking back.

Mom only smiled again. "Oh, he won't bite, dear. He's only your age." And then as abruptly as she entered the room, she left, only patting the girl on the head before her exit. Then it was just the two of us.

Short dull-brown hair ending just above her shoulders. A greying pink parka snugly cuddling her frail body, the very thing that had ultimately defended her the best it could against the howling winds outside. Frayed leather gloves tightly clutching her hands,

to stop the frostbite from leaping out.

I hadn't known at the time, of course. All I thought at the time was that a timid girl was standing awkwardly in my room across from me. But she didn't seem mean.

She raised her hand to her evenly-parted fringe, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Even then, she still refused to look directly at me, even when she finally asked:

"...What are you playing?"

It didn't take long for me to figure out I was going to do most of the talking this playtime. My hands moved to grab a couple of the wooden toys scattered around me – a thicker, larger figure dressed in a blue makeshift coat, clutching a little mallet by its side; a slim figure cut to resemble a female's, with crudely tied braids and a cute pink-red winter dress. (It took me a good few years to master my hair-braiding technique.)

"It's called 'Villages'," I replied eagerly. "The village's food is all being stolen by the animals-" - I gestured towards smaller figures, all taking on the appearance of Topis and Nitpickers - "-so the chief's going with his climbing people to go up the mountain and get the food again."

A pause. She observed the little pretend world I'd been puppeting in my little game carefully: three or four tiny houses representing a village, at the foot of a mountain of pillows that the "climbing people" had been...climbing. Nothing impressive, but, well, a child's imagination easily changed that, I suppose.

The girl didn't say anything.

Pushing the little figures closer to her, I boasted proudly, "My papa made these for me," hoping to pique her interest still. In hindsight, I suppose she'd asked what I was doing in the first place _because_ she wanted to join in, but the poor thing had been too timid to even try. I can't help but chuckle a little at that thought.

My tactics seemed to have been successful, though, because her eyes seemed to light up just a little bit as she began to employ the same intrigued gaze I'd had earlier. Shuffling a little nearer to me, she bent her head to inspect the wooden figures.

"That's..."

My eyes widened, meeting her own.

"...so cool," she finally replied. Another moment passed where she paused again, pursing her lips. It only then occurred to me that she'd been holding something behind her back, as she brought something out. A tattered seal plush, greying similarly to her own parka with seams beginning to fall apart. The button-eyed doll had seen better days.

Then, for the first time, the faintest of smiles crossed her face.

"My mama made this for me."

The girl clutched the doll close to her chest. It seemed like if she were to hug it any tighter the seams would unravel. She gazed down at it fondly, her eyes sparkling against it as if it were a jewel.

In the distance, beyond the boundaries of my childhood bedroom, the mutters and murmurs of the adults resonated. Whatever they were discussing, I thought as nothing more than serious adult-talk. Things I wouldn't understand yet. Deep voices sounded as if they were dominating the conversation; my mother never bothered to interrupt my father's negotiations unless she saw it as necessary.

The girl had obviously noticed this whilst she'd been sitting with the adults, though she didn't seem to outwardly think much of it. We could only hear two papas talking besides two silent mamas. Or so I thought, anyway.

"Your mama's really nice, making a doll for you," I observed.

She only nodded, having looked away from me again. Her feet sidled back together. The stiffness I thought I'd been able to ease out of her was chaining her once again, roots digging back into the ground just when they'd started to release her as she froze back into her own little igloo.

Her attention soon returned to the wooden figures clutched in my small hands, the masculinely-built doll representing a "chief" of sorts; the female figure his princess, her 'status' evident by the orange-red pattern adorning her dress. Compared to the other dolls, the princess in particular was evidently the most untouched: where the chief's figure was immaculate and spotless, with only the vaguest signs of weariness, the princess, though barely scratched, had a thin coat of dust accompanying her attire. The princess was worn in her own way, too, despite the cunning grin carved onto her face. A grin buried within the depths of my toy box more than it should have been.

I'd spent so long staring at the little thing that I barely noticed the figure of the girl shadowing my own, her approach towards me uncertain but intrigued. Seal clutched in one arm, she raised her right hand towards me, pointing towards the princess in my own.

"Does _she_ do anything in your game?"

Maybe she'd noticed the doll's neglect, or maybe the fact it was the only remotely female figure piqued her interest, but the doll had intrigued her enough to spark even the slightest glint of courage within her to come closer to me and (amazingly) speak to me without prompt. I raised myself up to a higher kneel to push the girl doll into her hand.

It was at this point that I got a better look at the girl's face for the first time. As I looked up, a lilac gaze stared back. Curiosity sparkling in the corner of her eyes, then the shiver of snow as the doll abruptly landed into her hand; her round eyes grew rounder, her cheeks pinker than her parka. The beads of snow that decorated her fringe shivered too, just as my hand brushed against hers-

-the doll fell to the floor, sending the rest of the figures into tremors and trembles.

Puzzled, I barely raised an eyebrow at the girl before reaching down to pick the doll back up from where it had slipped out of my hand. It had not met its destination of the girl's hand, nor had it had the chance to. The moment we touched, she'd jolted back instantly.

It probably goes without saying that I was a lot more outgoing and extroverted in my childhood in comparison to my current self; one might even say that over the course of time Nana and I exchanged personalities at some point. This is not true, of course. We just happened to grow up. And having grown up a little bit now, I can come to understand why my companion had felt so startled around me at first.

I paused for a brief moment after retrieving the toy, examining it carefully once again. Then, more gently, I proffered it to her once more.

"The princess leads the climbing people with the chief," I explained. "Because they rule together."

Assuming I were to follow the reality of village life in the game? This too was not true. The chief rules alone.

" _Tradition was made to be followed, dear. To break tradition is to break loyalty."_

Such is the case of my livelihood in Yukino, of my entire existence. For as long as possible, our traditions must continue to beat strongly at the heart of the village. My mother made this clear in her parting will.

Would it be a sin if I were to vow to shatter the boundaries instead? To tear apart the ancient laws and alter them to how I see fit?

I don't mean to appear as if I condone the abolishment of such a system. Merely the alteration. But I'd never hear the end of Gio and my subsequent "disrespect" if I were to suggest such a thing, though even my mother herself did so. It may sound odd of me to say that after I've just criticised her attachment to such ancient concepts, but any "changes" she had made of her own she made out of basic humanity and compassion. Left untouched were still many other harshly strict values she saw no issue with.

Despite it all, Yukino is renown across the region for its equal abundance of liberties; of freedom and welcoming, in contrast to pretty much any other civilisation in our frosty climate. Word of mouth easily tells of our people's kindness and tolerance, and traders and merchants of all walks of life (sometimes even from far out of the region) congregate in our village, the largest business hub around - being the most populated village, after all. (You understand by now that my homeplace is of great significance to almost anyone around it, at least in our region, anyway.)

Perhaps the thing Yukino is best known for apart from all those brilliant things is its tolerance – or rather, welcoming, even – of anyone and everyone into its arms. Yukino is a sanctuary; a place of solace for even the "demons" and "scum" of the world, in a world where everywhere else seems to shut them away.

"Snowbats" such as ourselves have existed throughout history for years, I'm sure of it. There aren't many old texts or tales of them, but any that remain to this day only portray us in dark lights, of course. It's either that or not being spoken of at all.

How my village's fall in discrimination came about, I'm not so sure of, though I assume it was a good while before our community reached the state it's in now. And considering the severity of our rule, I suppose most people don't have much of a choice when it comes to their attitudes towards myself, no matter how beastly or dangerous I may be in their eyes. Such is the privilege of being the beloved chief's child.

A privileged and lonely child.

It was the girl's turn to raise an eyebrow at me. "Together?"

"Yes." I nodded. "...Um, unless you want to do something else."

The doll still lay in my hand, waiting patiently to be held and played with. Its times of neglect were coming to an end.

A small hand clasped its fingers around it, taking it away from me.

"I want to go up the mountain with you."


	13. flood

**And I'm back again. B) No, this isn't dead, I'm just terrible with organisation (and I have mock exams right now so I've been busy studying). I hope you enjoy, as usual! Once I'm less busy I'll definitely be working on this more so it's finally finished. And then I'll be able to start my next fic idea for our favourite climbers ;)**

 **(Ahh, I really need to work on my tension and dialogue writing. ;w;)**

* * *

" _Ahhh, I can't wait,"_ _the boy mused, stretching._

 _The girl laughed, rolling her eyes a little._ " _It's only a few more days. Be patient," she said._

" _It's hard to be patient for your birthday, though," he replied._

" _Good days take such a long time to arrive, and then before you know it, they've gone by."_

* * *

It'd be cool to see the sun again. Sometimes winter feels like it lasts too long.

Yes, contrary to popular belief, we actually do get summer in this bleak corner of the world, where almost the whole year round snow is all you'll ever be greeted by. Momentarily, for a month or two, the snow melts away and we sneak a glance at the greenery beneath the white blanket. It's a nice change in scenery.

I had hoped to awaken to one of these warm mornings today, but we don't usually get what we want in life, do we? (...At least, I don't.)

As my eyes open, the sting of the cold pierces my sleepy gaze. Nothing has changed. The mountain is still tall. The ice coating it still shimmers. The snow sprinkled upon it is still white. The sky is still clouded grey. And we are still far from the peak.

I've learned that sometimes staying the same is better – for you, for other people, for the world. When you've gotten comfortable in your place, and you find it's a comfortable enough position for the people around you, all then seems well with the world, right? In the time you've settled, people and the world have grown accustomed to the "you" that you've displayed. The people that do like that self you put on display could never imagine how vastly different you could possibly be if you tried hard enough. The truth is, not many people welcome change. Change means that things become different; that the identities they once possessed in the past vanish, reforming into new faces and beings.

Present becomes past. History. A ghostly memory. And sometimes, it's better that way.

But as humans, we develop this sweet, irritating thing called attachment. You feel quite lost once you realise how every second you're a new person to the one just a moment ago, even if you don't normally realise it. Pieces of you are being left behind all the time, and they won't return. Sometimes pieces of people you love are left behind too, and it feels like they died. Perhaps they did, in some way or another, in the blink of an eye. Then it all comes crashing on you and the grief begins.

Yawning loudly, I turn my attention to the sleepyhead beside me, still peacefully engrossed in whatever dream he might be having. It's a relief to be able to wake up in his presence, ten times better than falling asleep in it. The night is scary, and even with the mutual protection we offer one another, we're both aware there's always danger just around the corner. In fact, this only occurred to us a few nights ago, so we've started taking turns to lookout in the night. (It's a miracle we got through our past climbs without it.) Yet the fear I may wake up alone one day haunts me endlessly.

Solitude sucks. That I can testify, having spent my early years before meeting Popo pretty much alone. Kind of difficult to approach people when they try to get away from you if you so much as breathe in their direction. Since then, it's felt like pieces of myself have been slowly and surely chipping away. Eventually, I might be reduced to nothing inside.

When I remember that day, as clear as crystals, I'm reminded only of my losses. The day that led us to lie upon this mountain. The day I lost what remnants of my flesh and blood I had left. The day all I had left of my past before any of the present came to be was snatched away.

I became scared I would lose the newfound happinesses I've come to find in the present; the many joys and wonders I've discovered since I took his hand. For the past few years, I've done everything I can to treasure them as much as I can, to hold on, to never let go.

But no matter how hard I may try, some of those joys feel as if they're slipping through my fingers. I hate it. It makes me angry.

I haven't told Popo, of course. He'd make such a big fuss out of my musings (though I do like the attention). Or he'd blame himself for neglecting our friendship, as he might put it, and causing me to feel this way. But that's not it. I'd just get more angry at him if he did that.

He makes me angry enough showering me with worry and care the way he already does, joining in with my stupid sense of humour just because it makes me laugh even if he doesn't find the same things funny, giving the best hugs and head pats when I'm sulking over the pettiest issues, or even just blessing me with that calm, reserved smile of his if he so much as looks in my direction – this unconditional love I'm barely used to having or...feeling.

And here we have an example of my point being made! Nana Tsubaki, a stubborn, selfish girl unaccustomed to change, albeit a change any young lady should welcome, as any grown woman in the village would say. That's right, folks: this klutzy excuse of a lady is now at war with her precious emotions!

If anything, I'm more angry at myself than him for making me feel this way. My heart is wandering past lines that shouldn't be crossed between us, lines that are meant to stay carved into the snow for as long as we remain together. But despite it all, I can't stop the snow from covering it up. Covering it up and opening that pathway for my heart.

"You're up early."

My head whips around to face Popo, briefly jolted by his sudden awakening.

"I'm not quite sure if you're awake yet, though," he chuckles.

Nnnnnghh. I can feel the red painting my cheeks. "Hmm? And what makes you think that, smart guy?"

"Well, you just seemed lost in thought." Popo straightens himself up, shifting slightly closer to me. I want to scream.

I settle for a roll of the eyes instead. "Yeah, I was wondering when you'd actually wake up. You've been keeping me waiting for long enough."

For a moment, I almost feel like puking, hearing that slip out of my mouth. When did I become so mean? Why did I even-

Still, he doesn't seem to take much notice, only sighing in defeat. "You're right. We need to get going." He moves away to fetch his backpack and mallet in the corner of the cave while I do the same, keeping my gaze away.

Instead, I turn to face the cave's opening, finding myself face to face with the blinding whiteness of misty snow and clouds once again. Here, the air is thinner, sometimes suffocating, but with the amount of time we've spent atop peaks, it's almost normal. Being quite literally on the edge of death wherever we are? Just another daily chore.

Yes, we'd finally set an order for things, and then this had to happen. I just _had_ to let myself get carried away. I feel even more pathetic and stupefied at myself for only cracking the ice now. For shattering the iceberg that's been so cold and freezing, so stubbornly keeping my emotions intact and safe. Now the iceberg's melting away and flooding my head uncontrollably, and if I'm not careful, everything we've built together is going to wash away with it.

It took Popo almost being killed for me to realise my true feelings. Honestly, how stupid is that?

"Hellooooo? Are you ready?"

Snapping back to reality, I return my attention to my partner. My best friend. He raises an eyebrow suspiciously, a concerned frown fixed upon me. It's too late now – he's caught on to the rope.

I nod dismissively. "Yeah, sorry. Let's get this over with," I reply, mustering the best grin I can in return.

I'm ready for anything, Popo. I'd be ready to climb higher with you if you asked.

* * *

The amount of progress we've made up Icicle Mountain is somewhat relieving. It's no longer the dissatisfying "about a quarter" remark we'd stuck to for the past few nights, but instead, that trebled. That is, we can actually see the summit of this wretched glacier from where we are now.

Our mallets have remained dormant in more recent times. The Topi and even Nitpicker populations _this high_ up are incredibly scarce, so few of them inhabiting the higher altitudes that any we do see are far too busy trying to survive to bother hindering our journey. It's definitely put a little ease on our climb in that sense.

Dig, pull, and climb. Dig, pull, and climb. That's the pattern I've been circling around my head while we've been climbing; a feeble attempt at calming the waters raging inside me, but a much-needed one nonetheless. I just have to dig my axe in, pull myself up and continue the climb. I don't really have a choice at this point. If I truly want to preserve my dear treasure, my everything, I have to follow that simple, unchangeable rhythm. Dig, pull and climb.

I know for a fact Popo won't let that happen, though. His presence itself is enough to shiver the rhythm in my heart, no matter how much I distract it.

 _Dig, pull and climb._

Climbing with him should make me feel a bit better - safer, even. Human company generally makes other humans feel safe. It's difficult to forget how high you've come when climbing is your profession, though. Especially when you're not even properly trained climbers.

Maybe in hindsight, this feeling that my heart's going to burst out of my chest has plagued me for longer than I think, lurking in the shadows and waiting for the right time to spring itself and the painful realisation onto me. Clearly we have a different idea of what the right timing actually is.

 _Dig, pull and climb._

It's true I've never quite felt the way I do right now about anyone else. The cosy warmth and fuzziness inside, the happiness I share when he so enthusiastically goes on tangents about the stars in the sky he adores, the honour and pride that pleases me so knowing I'm special to him the way he is to me - for not one second do I doubt his reciprocity in that way. A world without my best friend is like the sun without the moon in the sky.

 _Dig, pull and climb._

But this is dangerous territory. It's a gamble where I could win it all or lose it all. And it wouldn't just be him either; the scowls I'd endure from my peers, unafraid to express their jealousy, are already one thing I deal with as we are. No, it'd be the opposite if things go down that road. Jeering and mockery. Those are the words I was looking for. No matter what happens, people are going to be more than happy to judge.

 _Dig, pull and climb._

Why should I care, though? Their feelings towards me won't ever change my feelings towards him. They can sabotage me all they like, but they won't take my chances away from me. You'd have to have your head screwed a bit too loosely to disagree that I have a _little_ more opportunity than any other lass in the village. I'm his best friend, for Mogola's sake! If he wanted anyone, then...

Well, I struggle to entertain that thought. _Just because two people are good friends doesn't mean they'd make a good couple, dearie._ Ms. Fuyu's voice echoes. (Ironic that came from her, considering her teasing...)

 _Dig, pull and climb._

There's no doubt that he'll be interrogating me later, though. He can see right through my ice. It's probably clear by now which one of us is the better liar.

 _Dig, pull and-_

"Wh- _augh_!"

Blue. A rain of blue falls away, just past my gaze, the flakes of shattered ice tumbling down after his collapse, raining down as a sweet reminder of his demise-

" _Popo!"_

The tension of the rope around my waist sharply tugs at my body, ready to pull me at any second.

I look down.

Below me, Popo struggles to swing himself back onto the ice wall, reaching for the ice with his ice axe. Helplessly flailing about, it's...an undeniably entertaining scene. Just this once, I can't stifle my laughter. A smirk creeps onto my lips.

Laughing, I start to pull at the connecting rope with my free hand. "What the _hell_ are you doing down there?"

He glares back up at me. "I almost died and you're laughing?"

"I know, I'm sorry. But just-" - I take a moment to calm myself down, doing my best to quieten my giggles - "-you really need to work on your remounting technique."

It's his turn to roll his eyes at me, though the faintest of smiles is hiding under that irritated visage of his. "Is yours any better?"

"Well, in theory, since I'm the support climber, I should have more experience with that, right?"

He's stabilised himself now, back onto the ice and secure enough to make his way back up without my support. In a matter of seconds, he's climbed right up to where I am, and we exchange knowing glances. We need to keep moving.

"It's thanks to you I'm right here, though. So, yes, you _are_ more experienced."

I shake my head disapprovingly. "Well, yeah, if I wasn't here, you wouldn't have any attachment, dummy. At least you're grateful." I pause, mulling over what I should say next. "But it could have been anyone else," I shrug.

If he had any hands free, he'd probably pat my head right now. A teasing proclamation of the few centimetres he has on me. But he looks up to the mist shadowing us, high up with the clouds, the faintest of smiles crossing his face.

"It could have. But it was you, and that's why I'm grateful."

This is exactly what I'd miss if we really did lose everything, if I compromised our stupid banter, our united laughter and joy, for my selfish desires. For the love I've dreamed of having, wondering what it might feel like, wondering when it would arrive at my doorstep to happily greet me. For the depth of something more, for want of closure, to inch just a little closer to him, and fill the small remaining distance between us. For want of what I might never have.

But it's okay. No matter how far apart we are, I'm sure of our bond, whatever it might be. And that's enough.


	14. summit

**Woo, got this done quicker than I thought I would! This chapter's pretty long, but I hope you enjoy reading it nonetheless~ I've been waiting to write this part for so long fhdjhjs**

 **I'm also planning on rewriting a couple of the past chapters, so stay tuned for that too, I guess! Hopefully I can improve the writing in them qwq**

* * *

 _He lay in wait just around the corner, ready to surprise her at any moment._

 _Any second now, she'd come strolling past. She was just in the corner of his eye._

 _And now..._

"Boo _!"_

 _The poor girl shrieked with so much fright that she shocked even the boy, his plan now somewhat backfiring-_

" _What was_ that _for?! That was really mean!" she cried, face and all angrily scrunched-up. Tears were almost forming in her eyes._

 _The boy shook his head. "I didn't think I'd scare you_ that _much," he pouted, though with a small giggle in his voice. "I'm sorry."_

" _But I was gonna surprise you with this after!"_

 _And with a smile, he produced a little snowdrop flower from his pocket, handing it to her._

" _Can you forgive me?"_

* * *

Three weeks.

Three long, strenuous weeks atop this hellish mountain.

Barely any other mountains in our entire region take this long to scale on average, and the longest trek Nana and I have been used to over the course of our journey is that of one week. _That_ was difficult enough, what with our scarcity in supplies thanks to our underestimation of that peak's might. But put beside Icicle Mountain, that mountain climb may as well have been a mountain stroll.

Thankfully, our tedious ascent is coming to a close, and the summit is within clear sight – much to our reliefs. Though I have to admit my conscience isn't entirely at rest.

For one, I'm hugely annoyed that we didn't think of this sooner. If you calculate the sum of our time away from the village with our previous mountain climbs _and_ our various detours, you get a scarily large number of days that I'm not proud to hear. By now the few pieces of sustenance we did retrieve from our first official climb and return to the village have definitely run out. It isn't that I don't trust (what little there is of) the leadership back home to reach out to our neighbouring civilisations for aid, of course – Gio isn't daft – but it's pretty hard to feel at rest at all when you remember that your people are at the risk of dire starvation this very second. And to think how we didn't think to target the condor's nest directly before all of this...I'd like to say that's where my anxieties end, but that's unfortunately not the case.

It was Nana's idea to make this journey, yet I'm the one constantly expressing my frustration over it. I suspect this might be the motive behind Nana's recent behaviour. To be fair, I'm just as annoyed at myself as she seems to be at me, and her attitude is nowhere near the last time her behaviour differentiated from the usual, but I find myself as puzzled as ever whenever I try to converse with her.

" _Well, I know I came up with this and everything, but we only found out a bit later that this blasted mountain happens to be that thing's nest. That's not something most people know._ _We couldn't help it."_

That had been her indifferent response when I first mentioned our lateness in pursuing this peak. I couldn't really have expected her to respond in any other way, knowing what she's like, but it did make me wonder what I _did_ expect from her in the first place. It goes without saying that she's quite the unpredictable mind.

One minute, she's ranting at me about my sluggishness and complaining how _oh so long_ I made her wait; the next, she's smiles and laughter all over again, her irritation seeming to have vanished into thin air in an instant. I can never quite tell what she's got in store for me each day. Maybe that's why we're friends.

"I can see a small cave up ahead," I holler to Nana below. "We can rest there in a second."

I can almost hear her eyes rolling in her reply. "But we're so _close,_ "

"Only because we've been climbing non-stop for two hours."

She can't argue with that. And she knows it too.

"Okay, fine, but not too long."

Once I reach the flat at the top, I help Nana up, pulling at the rope to support her climb. We head over to the cave – if you could call it one, being more of a vague hollow slightly caved into the side of the mountain – and set our belongings down. Nana leans herself against the ice wall, tucking her knees up to her chest. She looks out into the distance wistfully.

I sit down beside her, hoping to start a conversation. We don't get much opportunity to talk _while_ we're climbing, so now is as good a time as ever for me to confront her and see if she's willing to provide any answers.

But I can't help but hesitate for a moment as I ponder over what to say. Words are difficult to put together, you see. Putting them into sentences that aren't gibberish and nonsense is easier said than done – that, I can testify. It's not like weaving, where once you've gotten the hang of the pattern the threads and strings follow you can continue with no worries. Just keep repeating the threading pattern and you're presented with a spectacular piece of work at the end of it all, thanks to that tried and tested pattern that never fails you.

And you'd think by now that we wouldn't ever feel any awkwardness between each other, right? When you're friends with someone for as long as I've been with Nana, the words should just come naturally. Because you should know that person like the back of your hand, this person who's been by your side for all these years. It sometimes feels like despite knowing so much about my companion, she's still a complete mystery.

I sometimes wonder if she feels the same about me.

"So, how are you doing, then?" I ask her.

Nana turns her attention back to me, one eyebrow raised in confusion. "Huh?"

"I'm asking you a question."

"Yeah, I figured as much," she sighs. Her bangs are hanging over most of her face, so I can barely see the lilac hue of her eyes peeking out from behind them. They avoid my gaze, instead making more of an effort to avoid it. This is a red flag on its own.

I sidle a little closer to her. "Something on your mind again?"

When I take the time to reflect upon it, I realise how often this seems to have been happening. One or the other of us feeling tormented by the world and everything else that's happened in the past couple of months- no, that's what it is: how _much_ has happened within the space of two months.

Three months ago, we both became another year older and relished in the bliss of life amongst those we loved and cared for. Strolling through the streets and roads we'd strolled through countless times in our lives, exchanging childish jokes with friends as we chattered, and grinning as we could hear gleeful laughter ringing through the village and its festivities; such lovely memories still ingrained into my mind. Just three months ago, everything seemed perfect, even if for only one moment.

Then two months ago, we watched as Nature herself strove to wreak havoc amongst our little world, stealing away anything and everything most dear to us. Lost families, lost friends, lost hope: two months ago, the world seemed to end as our journey began.

And only a month ago did we embark on this final mission, our last chance to find that hope again – for our sake, for their sake, for anyone's sake. One month ago, we took on the trial of Icicle Mountain, taking the risks at hand in stride.

Now we're here, having come so far away from home, but having flown so high to get to where we are now. Together. Despite the endless hurt and pain of it all these past three months, we're still _together_.

If there's one thing I haven't lost yet, it's her. And I don't plan on it any time soon.

Nana leans her head back a little to face me, her bangs parting like curtains as she shifts to reveal a weak smile. "Yeah, for the fifth time this whole journey," she scoffs. "Can't I have just one week where I'm not mourning or dealing with dumb emotions?"

"That's a big ask of you when you consider how much we've had to do, though."

She doesn't reply, seeming to frown at my answer. It's difficult to approach her when she's like this. She can be a hard nut to crack. My friend's stubbornness never fails to amaze me, but it does tell me when I have to step away and let her get on with whatever's spinning through her head.

"It's all going to be fine soon, Nana." I continue. "We're literally minutes away from the summit. All we have to do is take down that condor, grab the harvest and go!"

Nana's face contorts into one of slight confusion as if the cheer in my voice is something she's not accustomed to. But she just laughs for a brief moment, shaking her head.

"Yeah. We've had tons of practice against that thing anyway. Things might work out."

I get up, picking up my backpack and mallet from my side before I extend a hand to Nana, grinning.

"Not 'might'. They _will_. You said so yourself."

She takes my hand as she rises from the ground, meeting my gaze with that bemused face from earlier, though this time there's the slightest hint of a smile at the corners of her lips.

"When did I say that?"

Now it's my turn to scoff at her. "Come on, this is all thanks to you! Otherwise, we'd still be way below chasing after the condor in circles."

Indeed, part of our plan is to (ideally) snag the food while the condor is preoccupied with the next mountain we were due to pursue before this- well, it was our entire reasoning behind the plan, once Nana had explained it in more detail. But she seems to have forgotten most of that.

Nana sighs again, turning away to pick up her things from the ground.

"Don't give me all the credit, silly." She shakes her head disapprovingly again. "We're a team, right?"

I return a smile, taking her hand into mine.

"You know it."

* * *

The overwhelming pride from plunging the axe into the top of the final ice wall is indescribable.

Looking up, it's clear that there's nothing else past this ice. I can't see anything past this last ice wall, and as soon as I realise where we are, I let the sense of triumph set into me.

It's hard to resist the urge to make haste and just hop up to the surface above, as much as I'd love to – especially when the end is _so near_ , so close and within reach. But I know well enough that this isn't the end yet.

"What are you waiting for up there? Let's conquer this bloody mountain once and for all!" Nana yells impatiently from below.

I nod, pulling myself up with my axe up and onto the surface, with Nana following behind me as I tug on the belay rope. After helping her up, I turn around to observe the peak's landscape.

The land is relatively flatter than what we've become accustomed to climbing the mountain's incredibly steep ice sheets, forming a small hill-like structure of snow in the centre. Great big icicles circle the entire landscape. The top of the snow hill is flattened only by an immensely large nest formed from some rocks and ice, all tangled together to cup our treasure in its hands-

sitting in the nest is none other than the harvest sack.

Neither of us is able to speak at first, still somewhat amazed at our very presence atop the mountain. I'm still trying to process the fact that we actually...we actually made it up this far. I can only gape open-mouthed at the sack a ways across from us, too frozen and shocked to be inclined to retrieve it immediately.

Nana and I turn to each other, exchanging awe-struck looks as we take the moment to acknowledge our ever-near success. I can't help but smile widely as I relish in our success. In the corner of my eye, I notice the corners of Nana's mouth lift almost as much as mine as we mirror each other's joy.

But we both also know the job isn't _quite done_ yet. Ascending the mountain is just the first step in our mission.

Exchanging knowing nods, we make for the condor's nest.

"Last one there has to do the chores when we get home," Nana smirks, eyeing me thoughtfully.

I grin. "You're on."

We race towards the snow hill, mallets clutched between our hands for defence in case of an ambush. While the condor may well be waiting far below at one of the many smaller peaks circling Icicle Mountain to attack, it would do well to return to its home base to keep guard of what it had pillaged; it's certainly odd that the harvest is at its nest rather than wherever it is currently as before, but there's no time for questions.

Nana zooms ahead of me, a smug grin etched onto her face as she shoots me a glance as soon as she overtakes. We're approaching the slope up to the condor's nest now, which looks bigger than ever the closer we get to it – though, considering the condor's size, it's not surprising at all. The slope starts to get steeper and steeper as we scurry up the snow, but to no avail. Nana's earlier victory over me in our little race becomes a thing of the past as she slips against the ice underneath and finds herself rolling back down-

" _Ow!_ "

...onto me.

As she tumbles onto me, I fall back headfirst onto the ground, cursing in pain as the rocks and ice beneath me strike my head. Dizziness ensues alongside a pleasant headache, and I wince attempting to pick myself up. When I can finally open my eyes, I'm faced with a seemingly-panicked Nana, albeit a blurred vision of her nervous frown, worried wide eyes and all.

"Popo, are you okay? I'm really sorry, I- I just, agh-"

She's doing her best to hold me up, clearly aware of my physical instability and fussing here and there for the sake of it. While it's quite nice and I appreciate her attention, I make the effort to get myself back into shape, brushing the powdery snow off of my parka.

"Nana, it's fine. It was just a-"

" _No_ , it's not fine, I just checked!" she hisses. "There's a big bump on the back of your head. Tell me that's fine."

I shrug. "I'm sure it's not that bad. Besides, I'm okay-"

She doesn't wait for me to finish, instead huffing in frustration and pulling down my hood, inspecting my injury further. I attempt to push her off of me, insisting once again against the severity of my wounds-

" _Agh!_ "

"See?" she says pointedly. Then she looks back down at her hands.

"There's literally blood coming out of your head, Popo," Nana says sternly, lifting the hand she checked me with up for me to see. Sure enough, her usually warm-brown leather gloves were stained with crimson, a sight I can't help but wince at.

I shake my head. "It's nothing a bandage won't fix." I reach for my mallet, scattered across a few metres from me. "If we get this done quickly, I'll let you deal with it as you insist."

Nana can only sigh in defeat, also moving to retrieve her own mallet. "Don't push yourself too hard when we go back down."

"I don't plan on it."

We turn back to the condor's nest behind us, only to find the "mound of snow" it had appeared to be sitting on to have disappeared: it hadn't solidified and had thus failed to support our climb up the hill, instead being brushed behind us as we'd hurried up. The nest is actually perched on a single tall pillar of ice that acts as some kind of pedestal – and it's not exactly something we can just walk up to.

Luckily, we came as a pair, then.

I turn to Nana. "Do you think a belay would work?"

She responds with a toss of our belay rope, already tying it around her waist. "Way ahead of you, buddy."

I don't stop to answer and immediately follow suit, attaching myself to her the same way we did with the Nitpicker incident not so many moons ago (a memory I still shudder at). Making our way back over to the nest, I grab hold of her.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," she nods in affirmation.

I don't leave a second for hesitation and hurl her up with all the strength I can muster. To my relief, she lands much more neatly than before – and my own ascent following hers isn't as chaotic as it seemed the first time. Practice makes progress, I guess.

I land on the opposite end of the nest to Nana, who peeks behind from the enormous sack as soon as she notices my presence. We both take a moment to look at the harvest sack.

Nana is almost as appalled as she was when we first got up here. "I forgot how big it actually is."

Me too, Nana. But I do my best to play it optimistic and reply,

"Well, it's nothing a bit of teamwork can't handle."

Nana just laughs in disbelief. "I think you _miiight_ be overestimating my strength in comparison to yours, Popo."

"Maybe I am. But it's better than me carrying it on my own, don't you think?"

She grins. "Oh, of course. I'm not _that_ mean, you know." After sizing the sack up one more time, she wraps her hands around the top of it, glancing back at me to signal for help. I put my hands around the bag just above her own pair.

"Right. Let's get this back down-"

A great gust of wind whirls past us, intense enough to whisk us away to the very edges of the nest in an instant. Nana screams as we're swept away, that fearful, panicked look returning to her eyes. The stupendously heavy sack is the only thing that stops us from being blown off of the summit; my grip on it is waning, no matter how hard I clutch at it. And Nana's hands are also slipping away – even after I manage to clasp them with my own, the two of us are barely hanging on, flying in the wind like two flimsy flags on a pole.

It's hard for me to open my eyes when each time I do I'm met with stabs of ice and snow. As if the shivers on my skin aren't enough already. Even my parka fails to withstand the fierce cold roaring against my ears, and the shivers crawl up to my spine.

Yet the one look I'm able to seize shows me exactly what I expect.

" _Hisssss!"_

Its cry echoes across the mountain to no end, screaming and howling as intensely as its frosty winds. This is nothing like before.

" _Popo!"_

I can hardly see Nana, her entire figure almost coated white by the tornado of snow surrounding us. The tears streaming from her eyes barely have the time to fall before they become the very ice shards riding the current in the snowstorm, millions of them cutting like daggers deep into our skin as they whirl past.

 _The mallets._ My stomach sinks as I realise we've left them below in our efforts to obtain the harvest. Looking up again, I can make out the silhouette of the great condor gradually increasing in size as it approaches the nest. Its colossal wings swoop past in a great flurry, ultimately whisking us away with the storm.

I let go.

In a matter of seconds, I'm in the air tumbling and turning amongst the plethora of debris in the tornado – rocks, twigs, terrifyingly large branches, all under the hand of the beastly condor. My lungs ache for air, yet I'm gasping and choking in an entire swirl of it. The snow roars.

" _N...Nana-!"_

A dot of pink flashes past amongst the storm, whirling around as fast – if not, faster – than my own body in the storm.

The rope's snapped.

I shut my eyes tightly again, praying and begging for it to just _stop_ , make it _stop_ and go away-

" _Hisssss…!"_

I almost sigh with relief when the winds start to relax as the beast disappears into the distance, though it doesn't stop them from jumping at the chance to fling me onto the side of one of the icicles surrounding the summit. The spike of pain seems to impale my head, stinging awfully as I'm violently smashed against the ice. With barely any air left in me, I can't even bring myself to scream.

Like a lump of dead meat, I start to slide down the ice, unable to command any movement of my own. I can't open my eyes; it hurts too much. I don't even know where Nana is. All I can do is hope she's gotten away, that she's anywhere but here, that she's _safe_.

By some miracle, my limbs are yet to have (completely) become disabled, so I muster the strength I have left to raise myself back up once I hit the ground. I never thought something as simple as standing up would feel so taxing – the whirlwind's taken its toll on me, clearly – yet with a hard enough push, I slowly manage. My legs are shaking and my vision is barely clear, but it's enough for me to be able to spot the mallets stranded from their previous spot. It's a miracle in itself that the chiko wood survived the storm in the first place.

I start to make my way back to the nest hill, running as fast as I can (i.e: not very fast) for the mallets, my last chance at fighting this thing off. While I'm at it, I try to scan the area for Nana, even just the slightest trace of her. But that bright shade of pink is nowhere to be found.

" _SSSSSSSS!"_

My head snaps back up to the sky, finding the shadow of the condor towering over me once again. I make for my mallet instantly, managing to reach for it just as I've been spotted, and I grab onto it firmly, preparing myself for what's to come.

The beastly bird darts towards the ground, its hissing growing sharply louder as it gets nearer to me. I remain stubborn, preserving my stance and clutching my mallet tightly. I can't back down. Not yet.

" _HIIIIISSS-!"_

Here goes.

" _SssSSS- SCREEEEEE!"_

With one hefty swing, I bash my mallet into the side of the condor's head, sending it ramming into a nearby icicle wall. It's a move I should be used to executing by now considering our past battles with the condor – more often than not, it was enough to put the wretched thing off attacking us again, and would often scare it away. But this is different.

The blow from my mallet isn't enough to take out the condor. It frantically flaps its wings again, only more erratically, and its flight is jagged and wonky compared to its smooth descent from earlier. Though I don't doubt that I've won myself a small advantage over it, I know I shouldn't underestimate what power it can still manifest, if any. I'm not sure if I should be expecting another snow tornado.

I also still need to find Nana. If she's still on the mountain.

The condor doesn't try to attack me again, its flight still unstable, instead swooping back up to the nest above me. To my surprise, the harvest bag is still neatly planted in the same place we left it, secure in the bird's roost. The whole nest appears to be completely unaffected by the whirlwind from before. Its owner hovers shakily above it, furiously guarding what it's stolen and shrieking loudly if I so much as look towards it.

For the moment, I'm unsure of what to do next. I can't reach the nest without Nana, and my ropes are useless without her; it's for this reason exactly that we're a team – that _any_ climber's in a team. I look pretty dumb staring up at the sky alone as I anticipate the condor's next move.

It lets out an excruciating screech. It echoes out and across the mountain range for miles, so loud it's almost earsplitting. I tug at my hood in a measly attempt to block out as much of the awful noise as I possibly can. My ears feel like they're going to bleed.

But the screeching doesn't end with the condor. No, it gets worse.

A chorus of cries and screeches crescendo behind me, joining in with their master's cry. I turn to see an overwhelming flock- no, a flurry of Nitpickers, forming the cacophony of dissonant screams. It's like some kind of lucid nightmare I'm living in right now. There's no other way to describe it.

The flurry of Nitpickers finally shut up when the condor ceases its cry, and all eyes are on me.

" _HISSSSSS!"_

Wonderful.

The moment the condor blares out its war cry once more, its minions immediately zoom over, their leers locked dead on their target. A burst of pink is headed my way, but it's not the pink I want to see, nor the pink that's of much help to me. Uncertainly, I prepare my mallet once more. Getting rid of some of them is better than none, I guess.

They're like arrows, the blasted things. Almost like mini condors. They come shooting and swaying past in an instant, ready to entangle me in their grasp. The aimless swinging of my mallet isn't doing much to alleviate this. Before I know it, I'm in a chaotic bubble of pink wings, circling round and round and round and-

" _Squawk-!"_

I blink. A wave of ice sweeps across, just by my feet, forming a sheet of ice that cuts across like a blade. It splits the bubble, knocking into some of the Nitpickers and tailing after them as it follows them around. The pink bubble is no sooner than later a big round ice wall, most of its composition comprising frozen bird bodies. I shudder, trying not to be too disturbed.

"Popo!"

Blink again and a familiar face stands before me (well, more accurately, on the other side of the ice), scruffy braids and bangs poking out of her hood to complement her wide-eyed gaze. I rush over to her, shattering the ice out of the way before I pull her into a tight embrace.

"Nana- you're alive, you're-"

"Yeah, I'm right here. I'm here, Popo. Calm down. I'm here." She hugs me almost as tightly, though I sense her worry.

I shake my head, still in awe. "You're...how did you- where _were_ you? Where did you go? Why-"

"I almost got blown off the mountain," she interrupts. "I had to climb a bit of the way back here-"

" _Alone?!"_

"What other choice did I have?! It was hard enough, climbing when I felt like my legs were about to fall off," she snaps. "I had to take cover behind one of those icicle things for a bit to recover. But I couldn't see you anywhere, honestly. I only realised where you were when those Nitpickers came out of nowhere."

I open my mouth to respond, but close it again, somewhat at a loss for words. As much as I hate to admit it, I underestimated Nana's climbing abilities (though neither us have actually climbed alone before).

I sigh. "I'm just glad you're safe, Nana."

"I'm glad you're still here too, Popo," Nana smiles. "Well, you're still here because I saved you. You owe me one." She smirks, nudging me playfully.

I owe her a lot more than she thinks.

I grin back. "I'll pay you back later, don't worry-"

The ground rumbles. We turn our gazes back to the nest and its owner, bellowing before us with that unbearable screeching yet again, howling and crying louder than ever.

Nana gulps beside me. "I don't think it's very happy we just killed its army."

"No, me neither." I pick my mallet back up, noticing the condor's increased charisma. The blow to the head from earlier didn't disable it as much as I thought. I turn back to Nana.

"Have you got yours?"

She seems taken aback by the question at first, but looks around in search of her weapon. It's nowhere to be seen.

Despite this, she's relatively dismissive about the matter, shrugging,

"I'll manage. I've got ice on my side, remember?"

To make up for her lack of defence, she manifests a small dagger out of ice instead. It isn't as fragile as it might sound, especially if it's something made by Nana. It reminds me of the jab of pain in my head from earlier.

" _Hissss!"_

The condor, now more than capable of flight, starts to rise into the air, preparing a grand manoeuvre against us. I move so that I'm in front of Nana, ready to defend and attack. My mallet, still stained with some of the blood from the Nitpickers, waits patiently to attack once again.

"Are you gonna smack it on the side again?" she asks me.

"What else could we do?"

For a moment, she purses her lips, lost in thought. Then her eyes light up as the flame within her ignites.

"We could get on it and attack it from there," she suggests, pulling more rope from her backpack.

Past me, if you can hear me, thanks for the spare ropes.

I take the ends of the ropes she hands me into my own. "You mean, _mount it_? Like, try to ride it?"

In hindsight, it's not a bad idea, though it'd be difficult to execute. There's no doubt it wouldn't be easy to get anywhere near the damn bird without it quite literally blowing us away, and what we have over it in weaponry we lose in aerial ability, put simply. There's only so many times we'd be able to belay – a technique we've practised twice. When it comes to a life-or-death situation like this, though, as Nana said, there's not much choice.

"We can belay up and grab onto its claws or something. Preferably its' back, but the claws will do. One of us can attack from there too." she explains, cautiously glancing from time to time at the condor in the sky.

I nod. "Sounds like a good plan."

If we can get high enough, that is.

By the time we're finished securing the belay ropes between us, the condor's begun its swift descent towards us, its foreboding shadow coming into the light as it approaches us. It squawks raucously the closer it gets.

I firmly grasp Nana's waist, ready to launch her into the air, mallet in my other hand.

"Throw me when I tell you to," she tells me. "It's almost here."

The condor is within clear view now, its obnoxiously bright orange beak growing ever larger the closer it gets. Those husky, feathery wings blow the snow beneath us away as if it were merely light sugar; the gusts of wind grow intense, then-

" _Now!_ "

Nana soars into the air with a throw of my hands, frosty blade in hand as she reaches for the condor's figure. The bird fails to anticipate our movement, but reacts quickly enough to flinch away from her desperate grasp, and her hands meet the air instead. I hear her curse viciously under her breath before I'm launched in turn after her. She looks up, a gleam of hope in her eyes as we briefly exchange glances, and cries:

"Take it down, Popo!"

I turn back only to find that I'm on a collision course with the condor, so close that I can see the myriads of scales and feathers decorating its body. It shrills violently as soon as we meet eyes and contracts, abruptly backing away from my desiring grip. I reach out as far as I can, gliding higher into the air light as a feather.

I latch onto the condor's claws.

" _HIIIISSSSSS!"_

The condor begins to sink with our weight underneath, flapping its wings violently and hopelessly trying to shake me off. But I hold on, refusing to let go. Not when we're so close. I can't let the little energy I have left go to waste after all we've been through to get here.

After all the quarrels and laughter, all the fighting and teasing, all the climbing and falling, all the ice and snow we've skated and slipped on to get to the top of this mountain, what good would it do to throw it all away? To disregard our efforts and work, to forget this entire journey and the paths and roads we took to arrive? For everything we've battled, it can't end like this. It just _can't_.

I won't let it go.

I feel the strength draining away from my arm as I tire of gripping the condor so tightly. With my other hand full, there's nothing else I can do to support myself. My hand starts to slip away.

I gasp, fighting for air once again as the condor attempts to bring us higher, where the air's so much thinner than it already was below. Shivering, I struggle to hang on for any longer, my own lower body aching from carrying Nana's weight as she hangs below me on the rope.

My whole body quivers uncontrollably. "Nana…! I'm- I'm gonna have to let go in a second-"

"No. You won't."

All the while, the condor continues to hiss and screech, voicing its exasperation.

"I don't have the strength to hold on! I don't have a choice-"

" _No!"_

I look back down to face Nana, a forlorn look now replacing her determined smirk from seconds ago. She shakes her head furiously.

"Listen to me, Popo. You're gonna climb up, higher onto the condor, and kill it from there. On its back. Do you hear me? That's the only way-"

"My hand's _slipping_!" I shout back. "We're not going to make it up _here_ , Nana!"

Anyone hearing that with their senses still intact would agree. High up who knows how many metres in the sky, hanging helplessly at the mercy of a terrifying creature, evidently moments away from the release of death – what chance of survival do we have?

That's how Nana should respond. She should know we don't stand a chance anymore. Making it up here is as far as we were going to get. But she doesn't do that.

She just smiles that sweet, reassuring, smile she always smiles, and replies,

"We aren't, but you are."

The rope's cut.

* * *

I open the door and let myself in, cleaning the snow off my boots as I enter the house.

"I'm home."

"Welcome back, dear," I hear a familiar voice call from the kitchen. There's the delicious smell of vegetable stew wafting through the air, and I'm reminded of how hungry I am again.

My mother peeks her head out from behind the kitchen door, beaming.

"Guess what I'm making?" she winks.

I smile back. "It smells really good," I remark, taking off my parka and hanging it up on the pegs. After getting out of my boots, I make my way over to the source of the flavourful aroma, eager and still bursting with energy despite the long day.

"How was your day, Popo?" Mom asks. "Spent most of it with Nana, I assume?"

"Miko and Riko were there, too," I frown. "It wouldn't be fair if we went off without them. They're our friends too."

She chuckles. "Of course."

I sigh to myself, emptying the contents of my satchel onto the table. Today the travelling market from Dewar arrived in Yukino, so the four of us had decided to take a look, just like every other year. Dewar's located in the area of Taimo that (oddly) gets more sun than snow, so its warmer climate allows for some particularly curious flora and exotic treasures to spawn around it; the village's merchants more often than not take great advantage of this and bring their goods around the region to show them off. It works, because not many of us born _in_ Yukino get to leave it as often as we'd like to – well, not at our age, anyway – to see these magnificent treasures for ourselves. The almost year-round winter in this part of the region doesn't help that predicament.

I bought a various selection of treasures from the market today: mysterious orbs that shine in all sorts of beautiful colours; a peculiar kind of flower called a mycellum that's a joyful shade of pink; a few candies in some interesting-sounding flavours (seasoned with "only the most _wonderful_ spices", according to the vendor), and a magnificent brooch with a deep blue gem encased in it, one that glistens like the aurora lights that come once a year. The brooch, in particular, appealed to me a lot _because_ of that crystal, and even though the others thought I was crazy for willing to spend as much money as I did on it, it was worth my savings for what I'm keeping it for.

Mom eventually takes notice of my noisy clattering on the table, turning around to see what I'm doing.

"Those from the market?"

I nod. "People from Dewar came by. They had cool stuff like these," I reply, gesturing to the goods I bought.

While the stew continues to boil, she comes over to where I'm sitting by the table to inspect the little trinkets further, eyeing them with interest.

"Pretty glamorous things, aren't they?" she remarks, picking up a few of the orbs.

"Well, they do say Dewar is the village of hidden wonders."

Her attention is then drawn to the brooch.

"What did you get _this_ for?" she laughs.

I shrug, looking back down at the rest of my purchases. "It just looks pretty. I thought it'd be a nice gift for Nana's next birthday."

"Ah, that's why." A small giggle escapes her lips as she hands the brooch back to me.

Cue the teasing.

Mom finally returns to the cooking pot, a playful grin on her face. "I dare say, I thought Nana preferred the colour pink, didn't she?"

"That's what I thought too, but I saw her looking at it."

"Perhaps it reminds her of you."

I don't reply, refusing to give in to my mother's mischief. It only started sometime after Nana and I began to get older – older by Yukinoan standards being past the age of ten – but it's hard for me to tell whether she means what she says or if she genuinely finds pleasure in tormenting me with my relationships or something. Even if I didn't have any close friends that were girls, I know my mother is the kind of parent that would go out of her way to set me up for no reason other than to follow the marriage traditions and establish a relationship _for_ me. Not that it's something that's generally mattered much to me.

"You know, for someone who's just a 'good friend' of hers, you do seem to mention her very often."

I groan. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Mom's head whips around, only for her to give me a cheeky smirk before returning her attention to the cooking. It seems to be done, since the smell of the more uncooked vegetables has disappeared, and the usually gentle bubbling has crescendoed to a chorus of babbles as it boils. She takes a portion of the stew into a bowl, handing it to me as I push my things aside.

"I'm just saying she seems to be on your mind a lot of the time."

"That doesn't mean I like her like that," I protest. This is a conversation I've had too many times with my mother, to the point where it feels scripted. It's like a daily routine. Over the years, Nana has also become as accustomed to it as I have, though she tries not to say much on the matter.

This time, though, Mom just sighs with more exasperation than usual. I feel her steely stare boring into me, giving me no choice but to look up at her.

"You really are an oblivious young man, aren't you, Popo?"

I decide to return my attention to the much more interesting bowl of stew.

She sighs again. "You're just like your father when he was as young as you are."

"Well, you weren't friends-turned-lovers or anything, were you? You said it yourself. You had an arranged marriage."

"That doesn't mean I didn't like him like that," she quips, mimicking my rebut. "And we did know each other a little before we got married." She chuckles again. "He had no idea he was so popular, though. It was quite funny."

I continue to concentrate on the stew again, pondering over how to reply.

Telling her we're just friends like we are is pointless, since she readily denies it. I even once lied that Nana had a boyfriend just to get Mom off my back for a bit, but that fell apart when I forgot to tell Nana about it and she ended up denying it. Some way or another, my mother always finds a way to bring a lot of conversation back to the topic of Nana. _You're the one that started it, dear._ I resist the urge to roll my eyes at her, irritated as I might be.

"Even if I liked her, it wouldn't work out, you know. She only sees me as a friend," I explain. "And so do I."

Mom only hums curiously in response, expressing her suspicions once again.

I carry on. "And I just think about her a lot because of that. It's normal to be worried about your friends, isn't it?" I take another spoonful of stew into my mouth while I await her answer, certain that she can't argue with my statement. If she could just appreciate the beauty of friendship alone…

"My point exactly. You don't mention Miko or Riko nearly as much as you mention Nana."

I look back up at her, putting on my best-annoyed face to see if I can get my point across. At this, she simply raises an eyebrow and continues her lecture.

"Don't think I'm saying all of this just for fun, dear. I pay attention to your behaviour quite a bit. Everyone else does too, you know. They wouldn't say anything otherwise, would they now?"

I can only grimace upon hearing that. Dealing with my mother is more than enough, let alone my classmates. This, Nana can sympathise with – though she's significantly better at handling their comments face-to-face than I am. I tend to make my best attempts to ignore them instead.

My peers aren't nearly as annoying as my mother is about the matter, much to my relief - some say nothing at all, aware that the two of us will only deny any suspicions; the ones who still think it funny to make kissy noises if we so much as breathe in the other's direction are the main concern, if anything. Childish, you might say. But I can't help but cringe at myself whenever anybody suggests the possibility of anything like that happening between me and my best friend.

It's difficult to describe, but it's embarrassing, thinking about that kind of stuff and then connecting it to her. It's like a line that shouldn't be crossed – that can't be crossed – between Nana and I. It's ice between us that's not made to melt. Friends like us are destined to find our own destined elsewhere, anywhere but in each other. It doesn't work like that. Like my mother says herself, 'good friends don't always make a good couple'. Good friends is all we'll be. I came to accept that a long time ago.

I haven't got a choice but to get rid of any thoughts suggesting otherwise.

"I see the way you smile at the very thought of her. The way you look at her when she's talking about anything, or how your eyes glow when you notice her enter the room. How invested you get in conversation with her, even about the most mundane things. Her very existence overjoys you, and you know it."

Please don't say it. I don't want to hear it.

"Do you know what's happened to you, Popo?"

I force myself to look away, anywhere but into that watchful stare, something to hide away in instead.

I don't want to hear it.

Don't tell me.

Don't say it.

"..."

A hand gently pats my shoulder. You can almost hear the knowing grin in her voice.

"You've gone and fallen in love without even realising it."


	15. game over?

**MMMM I would have liked to end the story on this chapter just so I could have the satisfaction of ending it on chapter _15_ (what with it being Icies' fighter number and all -w-) ****I've waited to write this scene for so long :") It came out shorter than I expected, but I know well enough that if I tried to extend it I'd just spoil it lol**

 **But that's not really possible with the state of the story as it is, so no, we're not done here yet! But we will be very soon : Hopefully I can be less sporadic with updates since this fic is coming to an end, so perhaps that'll motivate me to write the next (final?) chapter.**

 **This certainly won't be the last fic with my favourite ice kiddos any time soon, though :)**

* * *

 _She dashes away hurriedly, eager to escape his tagging hand as he chases after her._

" _I'm gonna catch you!" the boy yells after his friend, mid-laughter._

 _The girl only turns around to playfully stick her tongue out in response, continuing to run from him._

 _But no sooner than later does she find herself tripping in the thick blanket of snow she'd been sprinting through, her friend following suit shortly after and falling on top of her-_

" _Ahh!"_

 _The boy giggles again, looking down towards the girl._

" _I caught you!"_

* * *

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I didn't hold on tight enough.

Now you're falling away, away into the depths of fog and clouds beneath me, away from where I can't reach you, away from where I can't see or hear or feel or know you any longer.

Why did you let go? Why are you leaving me? Why are you going?

 _Why?_

You've left me with nothing, feeble as I am already up here. You've brought me up so high only to abandon me at this height, just when we've come so far up _together_ \- you've left me alone. You've left me helpless, torturing me as I can do _nothing_ but tearfully scream your name as you leave. How stubborn can you be in your self-hatred to leave me like this?

" _I'll be the one to fall for you."_

You said you'd fall for me, and now you have. But at what cost? What's the point if you won't land that fall?

Where are you going, Nana?

" _HIIIIIISSSSSS!"_

My head snaps back up, facing the condor above as it furiously flaps its wings at me, aggravated by my presence. Its hover, however, is not as stunted as it was seconds ago, and I feel the increase in height start to quicken as the knots in my stomach grow with near-unbearable nausea. I feel sick.

Despite it all, determination reigns supreme overall. For her sake, I can't give up now. The only way to counter my weakening grip is to keep on climbing.

With what strength I have left, I sling my dangling mallet back over my shoulder on its strap and reach up to grab the condor's main body with my now-free hand; fighting the condor's aggressive wings isn't easy, but I manage to slip my hand through relatively quickly to pull myself up. The closer I get to the condor's head, the louder and more irritating its screech grows, though I have no choice but to endure it.

I can feel the muscles in my arms tiring – especially after everything I've put my body through – and they ache terribly. Yet I know I can't afford to loosen my grip. Not again.

I let go of the condor's claws and move my other hand to its backside so that both my hands are securely wrapped around its body. Now all I need to do is push myself up.

" _SCREEEEE!"_

Unfortunately, that proves to be quite a difficult task at the moment. Especially when bundles of feathers are batting you endlessly in the face and the world around you is spinning. But there's no chance of attacking the condor in any way in my current position, so my only choice is to continue my climb.

I manage to swing myself up and onto the back of the condor, my legs straddled across it as I tightly wrap my arms around its body, clinging onto the creature for dear life. The huge bird is still going strong in its efforts to shake me off, but the harder it shakes, the more tightly I hold on. Up this high, there's not much else my instinct can do _but_ that.

Although the condor has ceased its ascent, much to my relief, it continues to struggle under my weight – perhaps more so, now that I've become more than a nuisance dangling from its claws and taken my place much higher. Instead, it now bounces and flaps around the air in a fit of chaos, seeming to have lost its sense of direction. It's nauseating. I can't even reach behind for my mallet without feeling like my stomach is turning inside out; the air (or major lack, thereof) only suffocates me even more, despite my feeble attempts to regain my breath.

Time is running away from me, from us, from them. I have to move quickly. I'll take what little chance we have left of bringing our harvest home safely. After all, the smallest stroke of luck is better than none at all, right?

Enshrouded in the dismal grey of the clouds, I'm dizzified by the crash course this monstrous bird is taking me on. All that seems to be ahead of me is a blurry mass of dull whiteness and the fuzzy figure of the condor I'm sat upon, a shape I can barely focus on.

Holding back the urge to retch, I force myself to retrieve my sole weapon, lacking the energy to conjure even a snowflake from my fingers. Making the effort to produce some kind of frostiness would only result in the furthering of my own frostbite nonetheless, so my resources are scarce; thankfully, the same can be said for the condor, beginning to tire of its unsuccessful attempt to remove me from its body. As if its flight was ever coherent in the first place, it's clearly taking a toll on the poor thing as it starts to slope down.

If there's any relief to get out of this predicament, it's having the weight of a big piece of wood off my shoulders. I don't bother to detach the mallet from its strap – I can't afford to lose it the same way Nana did – and tighten my position on the condor. Its now sluggish movements make my attempts at balancing myself somewhat easier, allowing me to tighten my grip on the mallet handle. I squeeze the splintered wood as hard as I can, pushing the clutter in my head out and away. I won't let myself feel anything as I do this.

I won't reminisce and laugh, or cry and weep hopeless apologies to her, or even scream and roar in hatred and frustration at anything and everything this monster has done to me, to them, to us.

So I raise my arms.

* * *

Is this what it felt like, Nana?

This sweet warmth as I fall. Did you feel it too? The rush of the air as you glided down like an angel? The relief of returning to the frozen grounds we walked on together? The joy of having done what you could?

I'm happy too.

I did it. I did what you said I would.

We can go home now.

* * *

It's frozen.

It's in a heap on the ground, shards and spikes of ice jabbed into its corpse. They etched deathly constellations in its skin as it fell and crashed, probably, cuts and wounds making way for fresh blood to seep out. It soaks the feathers and fur a deep dark crimson.

I'm nearly frozen, too. It's like the pain from my head multiplied and spread to the rest of my body to torture me further. I barely have the energy to try and drag myself away from the rotten carcass, only being able to remain beside it absorbing the ugly scent of death. The red on the fur of my parka is strikingly brighter than the red dying the condor, bleeding like blossoming flowers across the white and blue. I have my doubts that it isn't only the work of the condor's demise.

It's a painful struggle to try and open my eyes any wider, tired as I am. Death surrounds me. The death of a hideous creature, the death of the future, the death of my-

 _Nana._

Where are you?

I have to look further. If I'm in my last moments, I may as well make the most of what I still have. What I'll always have.

"Nnghh...hn..."

It's barely a push as I slowly let myself roll off and away from the bloody lump of meat and feathers, grunting in pain as I hit the icy ground. It's rock hard yet soothing, secure and safely away from the furious winds and cold above. A good place to die.

Away from (what was) the condor, there's light. Lying on my back, I can see a brilliant bright blue sky, letting through vibrant rays of warm sun that shine upon the snow around me. Little snowflakes glisten and sparkle as I turn to face my right away from the blinding light. There's whiteness for miles around the peak, but coupled with the periwinkle shades above, it's hard to not admire. It's beautiful.

Turning the rest of my body onto my side, I manage to open my eyes a little more. But the overwhelming burst of white I expect to see doesn't appear.

Slowly, my eyes accustom to the rest of the light, forming an even more beautiful image before me. I start to recognise a familiar vision: a messy clump of pine brown bangs covering a peaceful face, slumbering quietly in a cosy pink parka. Hood wrapped over her head, I start to notice more things.

A red flower blossoms from her chest, one that looks like the one over my own parka, bleeding the same red across the fur. In the corner of my eyes, I make out a red river seeping out of her mouth, rosy chapped lips showing anything but the smile she'd gifted me in the skies.

Amidst the lumps and flakes of snow, she lies.

She's frozen.

I open my mouth as if to speak, but it's stuck. I can only choke and gape in astonishment, stunned to the bone as I start to freeze up even more. I can't find that fleeting blissful solace from moments ago, not here, not now.

I can't reach out to her – I couldn't reach out to her, and even now I can't touch her, or hold her while she drifts off to sleep, or say something she can listen to, that she'd listen to even if she didn't give a care about my nonsense. I can't make her smile, I can't make her cry, I can't make her mad, I can't give her any more surprises or scares-

I couldn't, I can't, and I won't be able to stay by her side.

I see only blurs and distortions now. The downpour is coming and the tears won't stop falling.  
Soon it's all going to fall away from me the same way she did. I won't be able to hold on. I can't hold on.

"...I...I'm so sorry, Nana. I'm so-"

I start to cough and choke again, scarcely able to let my words flow (let alone talk). My chest aches with each word I manage to utter. But I continue.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," I whisper.

The sun sends shivers down my spine, its warmth like some kind of jeering taunt at my grief.

"I killed the condor. It's dead, but that- that's all I could manage, and all for this?"

"What use is that thing being dead if I- if we can't, we...we can't even _bring back what we lost_ , we can't go home and feed everyone, we can't get off of this stupid mountain and just-"

For a moment, my sobs interrupt my complaints, gagging my mouth as I struggle to find my courage to speak once more. It hurts and aches – my chest hurts so much, my throat feels sore, and the frost is devouring me, crawling and clutching at my body as it eats away. Like a rope of thorns, it holds me as its prisoner.

"...There's so much I still want us to do, Nana." For once, I'm lost for words myself. I don't know what to say.

All I can say is what I do still know:

"I- I want to climb even higher...even higher mountains together with you. I want us to climb together again, I-"

I pause, shakily sucking in a deep breath and mustering the last of my energy to reach for her hand, clasping it in my own.

"I want us to... climb higher than we are now."

* * *

...I'd love to, Popo.

More than anything.

Thank you.


	16. tying the knot

What a thrilling show that was indeed.

I must say, I am impressed two feeble humans such as yourselves were able to accomplish such a task. You've done well, Popo and Nana.

Never have I seen a better exhibit of teamwork than _this_ Player 1 and Player 2 duo. This truly is something else.

The pair of you would make quite the fine addition to my trophy collection. I trust you would be a good asset to me in the future.

As you so wish, and as I see necessary, the two of you shall be bound together. You are two united into one from this day onwards; thus, your fates rest on one another's shoulders, for you now share a spirit formed by your intense bond. A bond that could not have been fully realised were it not for your embarking on this journey. A bond no other creature can possibly fathom; a bond of sheer devotion so powerfully overwhelming it will provide the strength and power you seek to continue.

 _That_ is what has joined your spirits and that is what seals them into one. I do not doubt that what the two of you have formed will ever waver, not for a second.

I will take care of you both dearly. Do not worry.

 _RETRY?_

* * *

There's a distant, chilling breeze brushing past me. I can feel it softly stroking my face, petting my head as it glides. It's a soothing sensation with homely comfort, calming enough to ease me back into slumber like the hum of a lullaby.

There's a lightness all through my body, nothing like the heavyweight of fatigue that tugged and pulled at me before. I could float – maybe fly – away from this cold world, away to somewhere warm where I can see the sun again. Where I can find Popo again.

Opening my eyes, a gloved hand holds my own. A tuft of messy bangs pokes out from the hood of a blue parka, a calmly resting face hidden behind that characteristically untidy hair; glowing with the warmth of life in his cheeks, he rests.

Is this where the sun is?

I take a moment to study his visage: not a trace of hurt or pain remains upon him as if he'd merely fallen asleep on the snow by me.

"...Popo?"

With my unclasped hand, I cup his face gently, the battered leather of my glove brushing past his bangs. It surprises me for a second, the blushing heat radiating off of his skin, when the last thing I remember is being swallowed by thorns of frost and paralysing ice crawling through my bones. I can feel the warmth of his breath too, across from my own gaze.

If this is death, I don't want to live.

He stirs as I lightly stroke his cheek, eyes fluttering open drowsily. Laying across from me, the night sky in his eyes looks as beautifully blue as ever, the same starry gleam shining in their irises. I smile.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead."

Slowly, his eyes start to adjust to the light glossing over his face. As he meets my gaze, they start to widen in awe, and before I know it rivers are trickling out and pouring down, thawing that serene slumber, cracking, crumbling-

"W...what…?"

Popo stares back at me in stunned silence. I stay quiet too, taking in the rest of his appearance. He's as mysterious as ever, but quaintly tearful – not even in the same way he's cried the nights before. For the first time, I feel like I can understand the constellations in his gaze, completely exposed to me, nothing hidden away from my view. I can see everything, and I want to know everything. I want to hold on.

"It's okay," I whisper, trying not to let my own tears of joy well up. "We're okay."

Still awestruck, he blinks furiously, seeming to struggle to comprehend my presence. He tentatively squeezes my hand in his; his uncertainty gradually dissipates the more he recognises my warmth, his grip on me tightening as he realises.

"It can't be...how- how are we..."

I sit up, pulling Popo up with me. "I dunno," I shrug. "...Does it matter, though?"

Squeezing his hand back, we meet eyes again, exchanging tearful looks. The landscape around us is almost pure white, save for the scatters of trees nearby; nothing like the sickly pale mist of Icicle Mountain. In fact, mountains seem to be a thing of the past where we are, with only flat plains and small cliffs making up the relief of the world around us. Any dastardly deathly peaks are a _long_ ways away from wherever we are, resembling pathetic sugar lumps in the distance.

...But if that's the case, then that means-

"I- this is a… a _miracle,_ " Popo exclaims. He gapes at the surroundings in awe, his perplexed astonishment having melted into an expression of joyous amazement. Then his head whips back round to face me.

"You're- I- we, we're _alive,_ Nana!"

I barely have time to reply before Popo pulls me into a close embrace – as he reels me towards him, I lose my balance, toppling over, and in the blink of an eye, I find myself collapsed on top. He hugs me tightly, gleefully sobbing with laughter. "Nana...oh, Nana, I'm so..."

I push myself up a little so that I'm able to face him. "Yeah, but- where are we?"

The shimmering white snow, the never-completely clear skies above, the scattered litters of snowdrops poking their heads out of the ground; a familiar sight etched into my memory more than enough times. Paths and roads we've explored so many times we know them like the backs of our hands. Air deliciously fresh and cool that I know the breath of. A tattered but sturdy bag of lumps sits idly in the distance amongst the snow, securely tied at the top-

We sit up and turn back to one another, mirroring each other's amazement open-mouthed.

"...This can't be real."

But sure enough, it's there. The harvest bag. The white snow we're sat on. The hand I'm holding. The huddle of the Kiyun forest's pine trees a few miles away in the distance from this small cliffside. And next to that, a slightly larger huddle of brownish dots, _such_ a familiar view: the discreetly magical village and its magical forest.

I blink, expecting the vision to vanish as soon as I open my eyes. Blink and I'll wake up from the dream. Because this- _none of this_ makes any sense, and I have to snap out of it, back to...reality? Death? The boundary between the two?

I shake my head. I don't understand. "How did we- why are we...how are we _here_?"

Popo gazes off into the distance, looking towards Yukino. Then his head turns to the sky with curiosity as he takes my hands into his again. I notice his lips start to murmur words under his breath as he gazes up before he turns back to me:

"You didn't hear the voice, Nana?"

"Voice?"

He smiles softly, his face still a little wet with the tears he shed earlier, though he looks like he might start crying again. "'The two of you shall be bound together'," he whispers happily. "I- I don't know what it was, or what it means, but... we're _saved,_ Nana!"

His face has the biggest smile I've ever seen, stretching across like a colourful rainbow with the most immense joy; in front of me, a Popo that I've never laid eyes upon before sits, grinning like an idiot as he tells me about a vocal hallucination. No impression of the reserved chief's son lies in that smile: the adventurous, loving and compassionate heart of a young boy sings and shouts of his glee, unafraid and unwavering.

I laugh. "What, do you think it was God or something?"

"Does it matter?" he replies.

I roll my eyes as he shoots my own question back at me. Though I guess there isn't much point in asking Popo when neither of us has much of a clue as to how we miraculously survived the condor's battering _and_ how we've somehow woken up some ten or more miles away from our village instead of...where we last were. Whatever spectacular deity's behind this, it's got some damn good powers, that's for sure.

Eventually, I bring myself to return his euphoric smile, pulling him back into our earlier embrace (a lot more gently than he did) and relaxing as I take him into my arms. He's warm, he's as happy as he ever gets, he's alive and he's here – _we're_ here, together.

That's all that matters.

I bury my head into his shoulder. "I'm so glad you're okay, Popo. Thank goodness…"

He sighs. "I'm glad _you're_ okay, Nana." We linger in our hug for a few moments, then he pulls away for a moment with serious eyes. "Please don't surprise me like that again. It's not funny."

I try to avoid his gaze, feeling my cheeks redden a bit. "I had a feeling you might say that." Of course, he's upset, after all the times he's lectured me about how important I am and how needed I am and yada-yada. "...But we wouldn't be here otherwise, right?"

"That's not the point," Popo snaps. A little more than he meant to, apparently, because he also goes red right after it leaves his mouth, flushing. "I… I really thought I lost you, you know."

I don't say anything. There are twisting knots in my stomach that have suddenly decided to get even tenser, and there isn't much I can say to him about it.

For the moment, we're both quiet, unsure of what to say next.

"… It's okay, you can admit it. You were worried because you wouldn't be able to function in your own house without me," I smirk.

It's his turn to frown and roll his eyes at me. "Please. I think things would run a lot faster without an extra disturbance around," he scoffs with a playful glint in his eye.

"Oh, shut up."

" _You_ shut up."

We exchange mischievous glares, burning with feigned fury. My stare locks onto his blue-eyed grimace with determination as I continue to play the part Popo knows – has known – all this time.

His childhood best friend Nana: a cheeky, loud-mouthed extrovert who's always got more to say than she should with a selfish, clingy attitude. Mediocre at climbing, she's better off supporting than leading, but she knows more about cooking a good meal than he knows about saying "thanks" to a compliment. She's petty and mischievous, always starting silly fights with him. But she's almost always by his side, has been since they were little, and doesn't plan on going away any time soon.

Now, it doesn't seem to work, though. The moment my smile slips through the cracks and my leer melts into a cheerful gaze, the ice melts- I melt, and I can't stop myself from giggling uncontrollably for no reason. We both seem to melt, bursting into laughter in unison the way we both do when there isn't anything else we _can_ do; when words fail, our actions sing.

But I know I can't go on laughing all the time and pretending life's a big fat joke. I know I can't stay blind to what's real. What I truly see and what I truly feel.

I exhale, exhausted from my raucous outburst. Then I look back up into Popo's eyes.

"Hey, Popo?"

"Yeah?"

"… You still up for climbing those higher mountains you were talking about?" I ask.

It's hard not to stifle my returning snickers the moment Popo turns bright red at hearing my question – he quickly looks away, a feeble attempt at hiding his embarrassment I'm all too familiar with. It only makes the mess he's in look even more hilarious.

He pretends to look back towards the distant view, playing with his bangs.

"I- well, uh, I guess...um-"

I raise my eyebrow curiously. " _Hm_ _mm_?"

His gaze moves back to the ground and he shuffles awkwardly. I get up from the ground after he doesn't go on to say anything else, still giggling a little from the spectacle of flustered Popo. There's a breeze brushing past us, blowing away from the cliff to the grounds far below and taking the powdery snow at my feet in its stride. The gust of air and snow beckons us to the way home.

At the bottom of the mountains, where we're nearly at our lowest, I feel so high up that I could just take a leap and fly away. Hand in hand, bound by these ropes, we can climb _any_ mountain. No matter how high it may be, we've been to places many metres higher than those puny peaks, and we'll go to many more. We'll soar higher than the wings of that condor ever did. We'll climb higher mountains than ever before. We'll hold on to each other and we won't let go.

No mountain will go unconquered. They're no match for this bone-chilling duo of ice climbers!

Popo hesitates again, looking even more unsure of himself than earlier and redder than ever. Still refusing to look me in the eye, he stammers,

"I...I mean, if- if you're up for it then...I am too."

I turn back to my partner, holding my hand out to him.

"Then we'd better get going."

* * *

 **After almost two years of writing this (with many multiple month breaks between each chapter thanks to my rotating blocks and procrastination habits), I've finally managed to complete my first fully-fledged fic _ever!_ Seriously, this is the first time I've actually finished a long piece of writing like this lol**

 **It's not the best piece of writing out there. In my head, it feels like it's dialogue-heavy - guess that's what happens when you imagine the entire story as a scripted anime - and half the time what I'm writing doesn't seem to make sense. I've gone back and edited chapters far too many times out of cringe or been disappointed in my chapter word counts in comparison to other fics. Heck, the total word count for this fic (not including my silly AN rambles) barely qualifies as a novella, when I'd rather be inspired to write great big stories and sagas with 100k+ words together.**

 **But I think I've made a good start, though it may just be short and sweet. I'm proud that I actually accomplished something in my own writing that I can be proud of, and that I was able to create something that other people also enjoyed. So I don't plan on stopping anytime soon!**

 **This isn't the last you'll see of my Nana and Popo. They'll be reappearing in the many other fics I have planned very soon :)**

 **Thank you for reading to the end of Journey (if you were willing to make it this far!) and for supporting me in my own journey as I wrote this. It wouldn't have started if I hadn't dared to return to FFN and discover that the SSB fanbase is still thriving with some amazing writing, even if it isn't as lively as it may have been years ago. It motivated me to return to my own writing and actually try to improve on my skills, and this was the result.**

 **Once again, thank you, and I'll see you soon in whatever the next fic I decide to write is!**


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